Okay, so I should probably look this stuff up online and see if the professionals have any suggestions, but that would take time and honestly, this all kind of happened spur of the moment and I had to talk to Zoey about it right away. So here’s what happened.
ZOEY: Mommmmmm!!! MOMMMMMMMMM!!!!!
Well, this sucks. A lot. Poor Zoey is pretty upset about what happened and I don’t blame her one single bit. I mean usually I’m the first one to tell my kids to buck up and shake it off and make lemonade and shit, but this time it’s harder. Lemme start at the beginning.
So Zoey came home from school on Tuesday and was walking through the kitchen when I noticed something.
Dear Katy Perry,
Wow I think you are awesome. I mean your music is awesome, you always look so amazing, and you just seem like a pretty good person. I mean yeah, I know that probably doesn’t mean much coming from a lame 45-year-old, so take it for what it’s worth. But here’s the thing, my hubby and I saw you do something on American Idol last night and we’re kind of a little pissed about it.
So remember that boy who came on, Blaze or something like that. I could look it up but I’m being lazy right now. Okay, so maybe this will remind you. He’s nineteen, awkwardly cute, and told you guys that he’s never been in a relationship before. You guys asked, does that mean you’ve never kissed a girl? And he said, duhhh, I just said I’ve never been in a relationship. I was like awwwww, what a sweetheart. He’s waiting for the right girl to have his first kiss. So sweet, right?
Dear students at our local high school,
Okay, so I heard about the letter you just got from the district, the letter that states you are not allowed to participate in the #ENOUGH National School Walkout on March 14th. Not a loud protest. Not a violent demonstration. You simply want to honor the victims of the shooting in Parkland by quietly walking outside and having seventeen minutes of silence and then walking back inside.
But the district came right out and said no. You are not allowed to participate in this nationally-organized peaceful protest. They stated clearly in their letter that anyone who leaves the classroom to participate will be given an unexcused absence and will not be allowed to retake any texts or quizzes or assignments they miss. So if you have a test at that time, F. If you have a presentation at that time, F. If you have a quiz at that time, F. You get an A for honoring the fallen and standing up for what you believe in and exercising one of the most important rights we have in this country, but what the colleges will see is a big fat F.
Zoey lost her screen time for a week. A week!! It’s kind of a long story, but basically she was just acting like Little Miss Poopypants and I told her if she didn’t knock it off that I’d take away screen time, and she must have confused me with a nice mom because instead of shaping up, she just amped up her a-holey behavior. Say adios to your screen time, kiddo.
And two seconds later I’m like shit, why did I do that? It’s like I’m punishing myself too because now she’s constantly in my face saying “I’m bored” and “What can I do?” Ummmm, you can not act like douchenugget next time and you’ll still have your screen time.
Dear mom who wears pajama pants in public places,
We need to talk. Helllllloooo, don’t you know that pajamas are for bedtime? NOT for out and about when you’re running errands. I mean yeah, I guess it’s okay to wear them to your mailbox (quickly so the neighbors don’t see you), but seriously? Shouldn’t you put some REAL pants on when you’re going to the grocery store?
But noooooo. You don’t want to wear REAL pants. You want to wear comfy pants. You want to sleep in an extra twenty seconds instead of taking all that time to put on real pants. You want to be able to eat a big lunch and have your waistband expand with your belly. You don’t really care if the snooty moms judge you in the carpool line. You have more important things to focus on.
Imagine this. You’re sitting at work in the middle of the day when your phone buzzes. A text. Just an average text from a friend and you quickly glance at it. You read the first few words. Your heart stops. Your heart drops. Your heart lurches into your throat. No, this can’t be happening. But it is.
Your phone buzzes a few more times, but it doesn’t go crazy because most parents aren’t stopping to text right now. They’re all racing to the same place. School. As fast as they can get there. They run. They drive. They stop their cars in the middle of the street to get out and race to the building.
So yesterday I was chatting with my friend who’s in her early forties and she mentions to me that she’s never had a mammogram, and I’m like WTF?
HER: I know. But I’m scared they’re gonna tell me I have cancer?
ME: That makes sense. You should totally wait until the cancer gets really big and spreads throughout your body.
HER: I know, you’re right.
Dear woman who left that lovely comment on my page,
I just wanted to say thank you for leaving such an insightful comment on my page. I totally hear what you’re saying. Who the heck are all of these women signing their posts with #metoo? And carrying their useless women’s rights posters that do nothing to advance women, blah blah blah, I have a vagina and that makes me special. Maybe if women spent less time talking about being oppressed, they’d have more energy to accomplish something, right? Like you did. I mean you stated it pretty clearly in your comment. YOU never got sexually harassed. YOU were never paid less than the men you worked with. YOU are successful and run a profitable company now. So I can totally see why you would think all these women are just being whiny complainers.
Because YOU got lucky.
Dear Mark Zuckerberg,
I am a mom. I became a mom eight years ago, and it was the most exciting, confusing, amazing, terrifying, isolating, happy, exhausting time of my life. There were plenty of hours of the day that I was with my husband or friends, but there were also a crazy number of hours that I was alone. So alone.
When I first started breastfeeding, my daughter would crying loudly while I cried silently because I felt like a failure. And even once I got the hang of it, I would sit there nursing her in the middle of the night in a chair in the dark with no one to speak to. I felt so alone.