Yes, I have a negative attitude.  Yes, I reject anything that I am “expected” to do.  Yes, I avoid traditional mother/wife activities.  I take great pride in being a little different, a little edgier.  My kids may not know how to bake (and if it’s based on what they learn from me, they may never even understand the concept) but they are learning how to Ollie a skateboard and they have a healthy appreciation for the music of AC/DC.

That said, there are moments when I realize how my mothering style affects my children in subtle, imperceptible ways, but in ways that might inhibit their ability to exist in harmony with the rest of the world.  I realize that they are missing some fundamental knowledge about the world, and everday skills that their peers are privy to.

Case in point:  I was helping the Oldest with his homework sheet.  The lesson was in reading comprehension.  Each problem presented a riddle about an object that is held in your hand and can be helpful.  Each problem was paired with a partial picture as a hint.  The Oldest easily answered most of the problems: a toothbrush, a hairbrush, a fork, etc.  He called for help because he had one problem that he just couldn’t figure out.  The riddle was “when your shirt has a rip or a tear/my friend thread and I/can do the repair”.  Now, if you know anything about me, it’s that I. Don’t. Sew.  I actually blogged about some issues I had with my slacker mentality while making Halloween costumes this year.  I have long admired the beauty of the iron-on bonding agent for seams and hems but that is where my clothing repair expertise ends.  But, I am aware of the concept of sewing.  So, the answer was pretty evident (needle!) and I sat down to try and guide the Oldest to that answer.  I posed to him several different ways of thinking about it.  This was, essentially, how that conversation went:

Me: Do you know when you get a hole or a rip in your clothes?

The Oldest: Yes

Me: Sometimes it can be fixed, right?

The Oldest: (with a skeptical look on his face) Yes

Me: So, to fix the rip you need something to help close up the hole, right.

The Oldest: Oh, yeah

Me: (head nodding in excitement as I see the wheels of comprehension turning) So, to fix the hole, you get out an….?

The Oldest: An iron!!!

Me: (Stunned silent with the awful, horrible truth of the moment and the realization that I caused this blistering lack of awareness as to how things actually work in the world).  Or, (gulp!) you, know how Grandma uses thread and a needle?

Crap!  So, there you go.  My kids don’t even know that if you wind a needle and thread around and around, you can actually mend clothing.  Aren’t I so proud of my nontraditional viewpoints now?

I admit it.  I asked the question.

This summer I was on a kick about a certain reality show that follows a group of rich women and refers to them as “Real Housewives”.  I pulled up my soapbox, perched on top of it with my laptop and created a long, rambling post about “The Real Housewives of Middle America”.  Before I got too far into my post (3rd paragraph, last sentance) I, rather bitchely, stated that if the lives those women were living were those of “real” housewives, then where the hell was “Wife Swap” when I needed them.  Well, today I got my answer.

Right there, in my little ole “in box” is an e-mail from someone at Wife Swap announcing that they are now casting.  WTF?  How come I’ve suddenly been invited?  I can think of only two reasons: 1) Someone at Wife Swap read my post or 2) Someone who knows me thinks my family is fucked up enough to make for good prime-time television.  Either way, I can find a positive slant: 1) Yay!  Someone is reading my blog (and they have a tv show!) or 2) we’re good enough for prime-time, baby!!

Just for fun, and let’s admit it, I enjoy being a little bitchy, I will share part of the e-mail with you.

The premise of Wife Swap is that one parent from each household swaps places for a week to experience how another family lives.  It is an incredible family experience and opportunity to both learn and teach different family values.

Wife Swap is a fascinating story of what happens when two couples see themselves and their partners in a whole new light. The New York Post says, “It should be called ‘Life Swap’ because it’s not just the wives who learn something here. It’s the families.

Doesn’t that sound like a fascinating experience and interesting study in interpersonal and family dynamics?  Yeah–if you haven’t seen the show.  There’s no doubt in my mind that I’d end up scrubbing pig testicles in a barn while a toothless charmer named Joe Bob lectured me on “women’s work” from the top of a cheap tractor.  The unfortunate thing is that my kids would live the rest of their lives with the image of me handing some chauvinistic douche bag his ass on national television.  We could discuss it on visiting days at the penitentiary.

Actually, I think I could handle two weeks with just about anyone.  Only the first week would be a nightmare, the second week, we play by my rules, bitches!  But, in all honestly, there is no way that I would ever allow Wife Swap into my home.  It is the same reason that keeps me from calling Super Nanny: I suck at cleaning my house and I can own that behavior but that doesn’t mean I want it broadcast for the world to see.  So, no thank you, Wife Swap, I will not be applying.

Wait, they pay money?

I think I’ve finally recovered.  I had to take some time for self-reflection and I think I’ve finally rediscovered my true self (not my YCS…she’s long gone and I still haven’t really dealt with that, which is why I drink, dress and party in a manner that is just sad for someone of my age!).  No, I’ve had to reconcile my inner self with my public persona.
I came to a crossroads recently that left me questioning myself.  I think that at some point, everyone is faced with that one defining moment when you have to decide where your values really lie and what kind of person you truly want to be.  Do you quietly acquiesce as life pushes you into newer, uncomfortable decisions or do you stay the course, remaining steadfast to the path you’ve set for yourself?  These are decisions that don’t come easy.  Even if you hold tightly to your true course in life, transient thoughts will often invade your mind, making you question everything you’ve ever held dear.  And so, I faced this question myself.  Do I want to continue to acquire new skills that, were I a traditional female, I should have mastered years ago, or continue on my course as a slacker mom?
Okay, enough with all the soul-searching verbiage.  Basically, it was before Halloween and I had a hard time deciding if I wanted to skate by and throw the kids into some crappy, but easy to assemble costumes or show up the other mothers make my kids happy.  Well, The Oldest wanted to be Indiana Jones, not too hard, right?  The Middle has been practicing his Jedi mind tricks (which means he’s been fucking with my mind a lot lately).  The Baby was clueless about the concept, which is a HUGE bonus for me, and yes, I realize that this precious time won’t last long.
After I spent some time considering my options, and the overpriced, poorly constructed, commercial Halloween costumes available in our local chain stores, I decided that even I could come up with a decent costume (and at a considerable savings!).  Now, don’t get bent out of shape just yet.  I haven’t belied my skills as a mom.  I don’t do many most of the things that traditional moms are expected to do.  I don’t iron, I barely cook or clean and I don’t sew (oh, and don’t even think about inviting me to your damn scrap booking party because I’d rather hot glue my labia together).  Not only do I not sew, my husband once had to buy new shorts because we were about to go on vacation and the button had fallen off of his favorite shorts.  Don’t judge me, he could have picked up gone out and bought a needle and thread just as easily as I could have!  So, what was it that made me think I could pull off Halloween costumes?  Well there is a secret arsenal available to slacker moms like myself.  If you are a traditional mom, you may not even know that these things exist, but if you look very closely at the hemlines or cuffs of your children’s classmates you may notice…fabric glue and iron-on adhesive.  That’s right, there are moms who use that crap for actual clothing repair and construction.  Now, I did mention an iron.  However, it doesn’t involve true ironing skills, you simply hold a hot iron against something that melts, and who hasn’t accidentally done that a million times?
So, my Halloween plans were lining up.  I bought all of my supplies and carefully planned each step of my creative process.  Here’s what I didn’t figure on: making a damn Jedi costume out of iron-on adhesive and fabric glue takes a long damn time.  It is too much work to try to slack at!  In my darkest, most exhausted moment, as I peeled the dried fabric glue away from my blistered burns, I confessed to my husband, “I never thought I’d say this, but it might have been easier if I had a sewing machine.”  He got me another beer to drown out the sound of the unreasonable voices in my head—I love that he knows me so well.
So, next Halloween, no matter how much the kids beg, no matter how much I want to prove that I’m just as crafty as the other moms, I will not subject myself to that kind of torture.  I will accept that I am not that mom; I will not pressure myself to conform to unrealistic maternal ideals.  I will simply buy extra toilet paper and send everyone damn one of them out as a mummy.

The cause of my breakdown (the costume--not the kid--well, not this time!)

After all the preparation, he forgot his brown leather jacket for the photo shoot! Oh, and it's a fake beard--he isn't a mutant!

The poor child who had to accept that he was just getting ears sewn onto a brown hoodie! He got over it once the M&M's started rolling in