Thursday, July 7, 2011

The Modern Family

Tonight it has been brought to my attention that I may be, along with many many others, up against a motherfucking wall. When it comes to being (having) the quintessential modern mother (family), how is it possible? And what does that mean?


I am supposed to shop at the weekly farmers market, go out to the bar a few times a month, have sex at least once a week (HA!), call my Mother every other, send birthday cards to people in the family, even if I don't know their middle name.
I am supposed to stay at home with my children because daycare just won't do.
I am supposed to have tattoos.
I am supposed to be in the PTA, don't I care about education?
I am supposed to wear high heels, be thin, like my body and show just enough and not to much skin. I am supposed to know that exact formula, even on 2 hours sleep.
I am supposed to breast feed in public and feel comfortable all the while I am being given the eye by the pervert or old lady who's just jealous because her milk sacks are now not only dry as the Sahara but drag on the ground because she too breast fed her children.
I supposed to believe that this will not happen to mine.
I am not supposed to have my hair in a ponytail every day.
I am supposed to use cloth diapers but wait, they may not be better for the environment, so I should use the chemical free ones, even though I can barely afford this kickback to my planet.
I am supposed to send thank you cards.
I am supposed to shave. Everywhere. And wax, everywhere else.
I am supposed to cook for my family and have them all sit together. I am responsible for keeping things real, I have to be old school and new school and then figure out what both of those mean because that too is my job.
I have to keep the TV watching down to a minimum and no fast food. I have to limit sugar and calculate the amount of time we all spend being active.
I have to pretend to hate white sugar.
I have to look good to the other husbands so I am still attractive to my own. I have to be friends with the wives of the husbands I don't like.
I have to pretend they don't judge me.
I have to have friends.
I have to go to the gym or beat myself up relentlessly when I cancel my class because I just wanted to sleep in.
I have to smile at the neighbor who yelled at my kid and pretend to ignore the other one who's lived there too long for me to introduce myself now.
I have to ignore ex-boyfriends on Facebook.
I have to pretend to care about music because it use to be my life.
I have to convince myself that "it's a phase".
This phase is called "This is not your life, but it's wonderful. Enjoy."
And once it's over and my kids are grown and they live on their own, I will thank myself for trying.
I tried to do it all, right. I didn't try to be perfect, I just tried to do it, alright!

3 comments:

  1. Oh god, I feel like this sometimes and I don't even have kids to contend with.
    Hats off to all the mums out there x

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