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Motherhood is so easy, stupid!
If you don’t believe me, just read a book, blog post, or magazine article about motherhood written by one of the Sancti-mommies. Seems like everyone else has mastered parenthood, and if you don’t parent exactly the way they do, then you are wrong, wrong, wrong. Take the recent book about how easy it is to be a CEO and a supermom at the same time. If only I knew! I’ll summarize for you in three easy steps:
1. Be a CEO.
2. Be a mom.
3. Be a CEO/Supermom. Duh!
It’s enough to make anyone join the child-free revolution!
And on that clumsy segue, let me add this for the child-free revolutionaries or the sans-kids sandinistas or whatever they are called. I was child free, too, until I was 51. I knew myself enough to know that I was not brave enough or selfless enough to be a single parent, so until I met D, I was child-free. And I totally respect, celebrate, and applaud anyone who has made the choice to not have children. Bravo to you for not being forced into a lifetime commitment just to satisfy the expectations of others. BUT<up on my soapbox>, if I read one more comment about how children are dirty and disgusting and ruin your fancy dinners out, I’m going to pray that your cat gets ringworm. I worked as a waitress for almost 15 years, either full-time as my sole means of support or part-time after college until I got above entry-level pay. And I’m here to tell you that kids, while maybe messy and not perfectly behaved at times, and their parents, while maybe exasperated, exhausted, and not perfect at every moment, were NEVER the biggest problem. It’s nasty adults who have no idea how to behave towards service providers who are the worst. I could, as can every server or bartender out there, tell you stories of having to wait on the biggest jerks on the planet, none of whom were children. And yes, we spit in your food. Or your drink. Think about that the next time you snap your fingers at a server. </down off my soapbox>. (OK, I never spat in anyone’s food or drink, but I wanted to.)
Make your choices, whatever they might be, and be happy with them, or not. Try not to judge. I’ll hit the LIKE button on the umpteenth picture of your adorable cat if you occasionally LIKE the 100,000,000th picture of my son with food on his adorable face, and we’ll call it even.
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