This weekend there was a huge article about mommy blogging and Dooce in the New York Times, so of course, OF COURSE, the comment section of the Motherlode blog is filled with the whole “MOMMY BLOGGERS ARE EXPLOITING THEIR INNOCENT CHILDREN!” stuff. Oh my god, the innocent children cry. Give me a fucking break. What about us? The parents. The mothers.
Let me paint you a picture.
Let’s use watercolors, shall we? The faint blue, to capture the winter sky. The white, the brightest of Benjamin Moore whites, the glistening newscaster’s teeth white, for the snowy mountains. The Catskill mountains. See my kids there with my Papa? They are away for a ski weekend. Some of their friends came too. Whoosh! There they go down the mountain! Please note the reddish hue of their cheeks! They are outdoors, skiing and happy.
And what is Marinka doing? Well, let’s put away the colors for that sketch. We’ll use charcoal, or pen and pencil, maybe. We find Marinka at home, in the West Village, cleaning. See? There she is in the bathroom on her hands and knees, scrubbing the toilet. What’s that? Oh, that’s just some Comet chlorox cleaner that splashed into Marinka’s eye from the toilet. No big whoop. We won’t know until later if she’s blinded or not, of course, but that’s what life is, after all, one adventure after another!
Marinka is now done cleaning the bathroom and squinting at it with her one working eye; she is pleased with how clean it is. Yes, a sense of accomplishment washes over her, because apparently the drop of Comet that splashed into her eye has somehow traveled into her brain and performed a virtual lobotomy.
Marinka goes to her daughter’s room and empties out the trash can. Something is stuck to the bottom. It’s typed. It looks like something Marinka’s daughter typed. Should Marinka read it? Surely reading it would somehow violate Marinka’s 12 year old daughter’s privacy. Fortunately Marinka subscribes to the paparazzi theory that garbage is up for grabs!
Marinka sets down her cleaning utensils and begins to read.
Mini Essay: Double Standards
My family doesn’t have a lot of double standards, except for my mom.
The arguments about that are between my brother and my mom and they sound like this:
“Mom, can I have some ice cream?”
“Sure, but only one portion.”
“What? Why can’t I have two?”
“Because you can’t have a lot. It’s too much!”
A day later, most of the ice cream is gone, obviously eaten by my mother. My brother gets upset at my mom and a small argument occurs.
Now, what do I think about this? What made it a double standard is that my mom said that my brother couldn’t have ice cream but then goes and eats it all. Double standards are just setting rules and breaking them because she can. I for one think it’s not controlling oneself because she is the most powerful and no one can tell her what to do.
Another example proving my point happened today, February ninth (Ed. note: I’m surprised she didn’t add, the Year of Our Lord, 2011).
My mom always tells my brother to wear a hat so he won’t get sick, but a couple of days ago she didn’t wear one herself. She spent today in bed, sick and I bet she regrets not wearing a hat.
This is what happens when one doesn’t follow a rule that does her good. Why not follow it? People can be lazy sometimes, but they just have to stop their temptations and follow the rule. For health.
WHAT THE HELL?
First of all, may it please the court, I did not eat all the ice cream. After the children-gluttons have their portions I have mine, so of course, OF COURSE the total amount of ice cream is reduced, but it has been pre-reduced by the children.
Second of all, my daughter is writing essays about how “obviously” I ate all the ice cream. And handing it to the teacher. And probably reading it to the class. Oh, I’m sure she’s getting a good grade for it, she always does. At my expense. That’s right, I feel exploited. Why should her academic success come at the price of everyone knowing that my children accuse me of eating all the ice cream.
Aren’t parents entitled to some privacy? Was I asked if I wanted my private ice cream eating habits exposed to the world of 12 year old classmates?! No wonder they snicker when they see me and hold their pixie sticks a little bit tighter when I walk by.
I say that as parents, it’s time we stop focusing so much on the children and start standing up for our own rights. If we don’t now, we have no right to complain when they Mommie Dearest us when they’re adults.
Join me. Insist that your children don’t use your lives as fodder for their homework assignments, sharing time at school, Facebook updates or conversations with their friends.
Or if they absolutely must, have them include a link back to your blog.
One year ago ...
- Sheets - 2014