I took my two girls to see a movie tonight.
I’m not going to lie: it was a trial.
My daughters spent mid-day with their Dad, and unfortunately came home without having had lunch or naps. It was all-around ugly.
I put the little screaming one in my bed. Naturally she wet it. After nap/laundry time, I ran the gauntlet which means I attempted to brush the little one’s hair. She does not take kindly to such indignities.
Then the older one had a nervous breakdown over her shoes. She wanted to wear the scuffed awful ones that make great tapping noises. I wanted her not to look like a ruffian. There were tears. For the sake of my dignity, I’m not saying who they belonged to.
Most of the time, I let the kids wear whatever they want. It pains me, because I suspect other parents see my kids and think that their mother hates them or at the very least neglects them and most certainly doesn’t tie her identity to their appearance because where are my lululemon pants and Tom Ford sunglasses and what kind of mother am I, anyway?
NOTHING challenges my self-esteem like the school drop-off scene.
I’d like to take a moment to explore the school drop-off scene.
As a child, I walked to school or took the bus, or later when I got breasts and learned how to use them, ferreted rides from geeky boys with hopeful cars and V8 hearts.
Then, there was no drop off scene. Now, the drop-off mayhem – there’s no parking for BLOCKS, very few men, and no kid unattended anywhere in suburbia at any time – unmoors me.
Friday’s fashion, for example, was AWESOME. The little one wore fuschia flowered leggings, an orange and yellow flowered dress, a backwards pajama shirt (over top the dress, of course), white and red striped socks and black satin mary janes.
And she was proud. I asked her how her clothes made her feel, and she said “fab-boo-liss.”
Somewhere a rainbow was blinging in concert with the glow and the glory of my three year old.
But when we go places – big social, public places – as a family, I get a little self-conscious. I’m conscious that we’re three people and not four. I’m conscious that we’re not all the same colour and that means something big to people with small minds. I’m conscious that scuffed shoes and mismatched clothes don’t signal “let’s her children make their own decisions” so much as “inattentive single white mom who’s not taking care of her brown kids.”
One of my daughter’s caregivers became a mom at 17. People – especially older women – were nasty to her, to her face. The nurses in the hospital attending her while she gave birth said snide things that sounded a lot like “this is what happens when you…” Old ladies on the bus asked her, horrified, “is that YOUR baby?”
She told me that the burden of perfection was her best defense. Her child was always well scrubbed, beautifully dressed, even better behaved. She might have been an unwed, teenage mom, but she was a Good Mom. Just look at her kid.
I carry that burden, sometimes. Being shiny and looking like money means I’m not One of Them.
You know, Them: the selfish, irresponsible and therefore rightfully impoverished slutty single moms who sleep with black men because they wanted a cute mixed kid they could name Jade or Rain.
“Those women” are imaginary. They’re caricatures of what we fear: women who think they have the right to control their own sexuality and fertility and that they – WE – know best how to care for ourselves and our children. Women who do what women have been doing ever since there were women: have babies, or don’t, and survive.
And none of us are cartoons. We’re all moms who love our kids.
But money is my defense. If my kids are shiny and well put together, I might escape that judgement.
(Although let’s be real: I’ll never escape that judgement.)
If my kids are well-dressed, well-coiffed, and shiny, maybe I’m not irresponsible, selfish and slutty for having children in a loving relationship that later imploded forcing me to make the no-win, no-one-escapes-unscathed choice to stay in something that was leaching nutrients from my wilting soul, or go. With my kids.
Because what else should I have done with them?
(Note: Obviously, they didn’t get here without assistance. I’ve not mastered agamogenesis. Yet. But watch out if I do.)
All of this is to say: I’m conscious of the eyes on us and if they’re going to run us over, I’d like it to be with love, not petty, ugly judgement. I’d like the assessment to be something like: look at that pretty little family. What lovely ladies.
Not, look at those ragamuffins. The mother had time to put on red lipstick and do her hair but lets her kids go out like that?
Subtext: selfish selfish selfish.
So I made my kid put on un-scuffed shoes and a mental note to throw out the offending footwear when she’s not looking. Because I’m an awesome mama like that.
Trashing the trashed shoes is pre-emptive and proactive. Lots of my life is all about anticipating the rough patches and avoiding them.
Like getting dressed in the morning. My little one is basically possessed by demons before 10am so I work around The Wicked. I dress her before bed. We don’t do pajamas. We do tomorrow’s clothes. Better wrinkled than embattled (and embittered).
Another pre-emptive strike is thinking through just what a movie line-up will be like with little ones.
I’ll tell you: hell.
I took the girls to see The Princess and the Frog the day that Avatar opened.
The lobby of the theatre was a flash mob. We were packed in there so close and tight that I’m pretty sure that by the time I bought tickets I was pregnant. By several people.
My three year old, who is as high as my hip, clutched my leg and rode on my foot. My then five-year old folded herself around my waist and tucked her head into my armpit.
For the first fifteen minutes. After that the attention-span-of-gnat-tiness emerged.
I’ll spare you the details, but we very nearly didn’t go to that movie because my nerves were shot before we even got to the cashier.
And that’s not because they’re bad kids who don’t know how to behave. It is because one of them is three and part-tornado.
All of this is to say that tonight, when thinking about the line for tickets, I thought no thanks and bought the tickets online which my printer then refused to acknowledge in any paper-based form.
So then I went to Kinkos to print the tickets. Kinkos was closed. Crap.
I decided to go to the theatre and ask for help. I can’t be the only person who has a persnickety printer.
Ah yes. Maybe I am. Upon telling my sad tale, I got a blank stare accompanied by a silent wall of notgonnahelpyou.
(Which I understand. When employers pay people the least they are legally able to get away with, employees reciprocate with the least effort they can get away with while still breathing. It’s a fair deal.)
The cashier told me to buy new tickets and later go online and refund my tickets. So I bought new tickets while suspecting It Was Not Going To Be That Easy.
(Update: It Is Not That Easy. there’s no place to refund the tickets anywhere on their website. Colour me impressed.)
So that was the race I ran just to get to the theatre: cranky, hungry kids, bedwetting, laundry as a result of bed-wetting, two pitched fits over hair-brushing and shoes, $89 for six tickets when only three were required, and an ever-present thundercloud of worry that the world thinks I’m an irresponsible, selfish woman for having and raising my children.
In other words: just another day.
Finally, we made it into the theatre to watch How To Train Your Dragon, in IMAX 3D.
It was magic.
There was lots of action, tussling (and cuddling) with dragons, a kick-ass girl Viking, and a great father/son coming-of-age story. My girls loved it.
It was maybe a little too wild for my little one, but she loved it even though she had to take off the glasses and cuddle into my arm every once in a while.
For a little one, it was a big movie and evoked big emotions. At each scary part, the little one chanted: I wanna go to Daddy’s house, I wanna go to Daddy’s house. And then she’d get really excited and animated and exclaim: I LOVE THIS MOVIE!
An older lady who was sitting behind us sighed and sniffed loudly every time my kids made a peep. I thought, It is a kid’s movie! You can expect kids will be in attendance, and that they will be behaving like…kids.
At the end of the movie, the little one was so hopped on excitement and happy endings that she did something entirely unanticipated by someone who’s an expert in anticipating her (that would be me).
She bolted from the theatre into the hall.
The other one, meanwhile, was frozen in her seat and entirely unresponsive to my pleas to move. Dilemma.
In an instant, I decided to fetch the one at most risk. I parented from the youngest up. I chased after the little one because clearly the big one was not going anywhere.
She had stopped at the end of the hallway and was waiting, smiling, waving. An older woman was standing beside her her. It was the same woman who was behind us in the theatre sighing loudly at my daughter’s wanting-Daddy’s-house chants.
The woman called to me as I raced frantically down the hallway, “Little red coat? She’s right here.” Then when I got to them, she said to me, pointedly, and with all the quiet evil she could ooze, “This is why it takes two people to procreate and raise children.”
I said, “Bitch.”
And scooped up my child, fetched the other one and struggled not to burst into tears. I marvelled at the weight and biblical proportions of the word “procreate”; at the snub; at the judgement that I always know is there but that, mercifully, few people have the temerity to express in anything other than sideways glances; at the fact that I called another woman the B-word in anger (who am I?) and that I did it in front of my daughter.
I was so distracted and distraught that I couldn’t remember where I parked my car, and so I paced the dark parking lot with two tired little girls in tow.
I worried that the car was stolen. I worried that I was incompetent. I thought, who forgets where they parked their car? Oh, I know: irresponsible people. Who calls another woman a bitch, in front of her own daughter? Impetuous, selfish, bad-tempered women. Who can’t manage two kids on her own in a movie theatre? A bad, single mother. Me.
I found the car, and I drove the long way ’round so I’d have time to cry silently but be finished with the hot, wet salty stuff before we arrived home.
When I pulled into the driveway, I saw the reflection of my headlights in the garage door. One was out.
The headlight. There’s so much to that headlight. At the end of my first date with Very Bad Lying Man, I leaned against the grill of my car. We stood close, without kissing while wanting to kiss, for a long time. He looked at the car’s headlights and told me they needed brightening. He said he would do that, for me. He’d take me to Canadian Tire and show me which lights I needed, and put them in for me. I brightened. He said he’d respect and desire me. And then he kissed me.
Later, when I drove around the corner and out of sight, I pulled over and shook. Everything in me said, yessssssssssssssssssssssssss.
I’ve never had that. I’ve never had a man who had my back. Or my headlights.
So this stupid single headlight made me feel even more like a stupid single mama. Lone and lonely.
I wanted to cry, more, but I sucked it up. I don’t like to scare my daughters. They feel responsible for me when I’m sad and that’s too much weight for little shoulders. I can carry that.
So that was our night. It was a bit fraught. The movie was good, though.
There is so much I could say after reading this. Regarding sparkling clean children, men who don’t do what they say they are going to, judgmental old ladies…
I’ve never had a guy that was there to back me up either. I seriously think they don’t exist. It amazes me how men forget to feed children as well.
Let your little ones dress how they like. It encourages creativity and independence. I think we have discussed in the past how both of our 3 year olds are “a little” hardheaded. It’s also been said that some fights aren’t worth fighting. I have a picture for you in regards to not worth the fight. Yes she has on a hockey jersey and a sunbeam yellow tutu (she was proud she picked out matching clothes and when we went shopping that day she was EASY to spot.)
http://www.facebook.com/#!/photo.php?pid=45167372&id=7003582
[Reply]
Kelly Diels
replied:
on April 25th, 2010 at 12:07 am
@Erica Cosminsky, tears in my eyes as I read your reply.
I DO think they (men who will back you up) exist. I KNOW they do. I’m working very hard to *only* let those ones in. Because they’re the ones who deserve it.
And sunbeam, indeed. Adore that. RECOGNIZE that.
[Reply]
Erica Cosminsky
replied:
on April 25th, 2010 at 12:18 am
@Kelly Diels, You are right that they exist but in rare form. I guess we press on trying hard not to be jaded while looking for that deserving man in.
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Wow! I so feel you on the single mama front and the pressure we end up putting on ourselves to brace against the judgment. From strangers on the subway to administrators at school…the looks, the comments, the assumptions – it’s a lot to deal with. I have a free-spirited 7 year old & went through periods of doubt about whether I needed to “reign” him in or stick with nurturing his independence and guiding him without using the control tactics we’re conditioned to as parents. It’s hard to stay centered in this & what helps is connecting with other moms and having a space to vent & be supported. So thank you for sharing…I appreciate connecting with other moms that can relate to some of the challenges of being a single mama.
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Wow, comforting to know my 4 year old isn’t the only one with the dress sense of Hellena Bonham Carter. She wore a pink dress with royal blue shirt, brown tights and purple wellies to preschool Friday. What mum would take away their joy just because of what other people wrongly think?
As for the women in the cinema, should would have got a lot stronger than bitch off of me.
I may be a slutty mother, but my kids will be happy, know how to climb a tree, get dirty and enjoy themselves.
Will check out the movie
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Ohhh…Kelly. One of those days, and very much one of those posts. You know – the kind that mash your face right up against all that it means to YOU to be a single mama against all the misbegotten, misinformed and plain judgmental crap that many other people carry around about single mamas.
The old bag clearly WAS a ‘bitch’ – it probably wasn’t your finest hour, but who is she to pass judgment on you. What does she know of your circumstances?
Motherhood, I think, always comes with its own little side order of guilt. When we end up parenting solo, we seem to get an extra serve – as if it’s not enough that we are our children’s nurturers and helpmeets, we’re often their sole moral compass, too, and so our every transgression and ‘failure’ is magnified in our eyes to epic proportions. I think we need to remember to be kinder to ourselves, in the face of all that external judgement.
You’re clearly doing a great job – I totally hear you (& @cosminsky & @lje) about the struggle between nurturing our children’s independent spirit and getting from Point A to Point B in our day-to-day lives. The boyo is 6 – he doesn’t fight clothing choices (much) but exerts his will in different ways, mainly to do with getting anywhere (out the door, to bed etc) on time. Dealing with it alone can be really wearing (all that proactive, preemptive thinking…it’s exhausting!) – no wonder the cracks can show just a little sometimes.
PS. I believe in men who have your back in the same way I feel about unicorns and fairies – I understand that they are probably mythical creatures, but it does my heart good to believe in them anyway.
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I’m glad you called her a bitch – and I’m glad your girls heard it. They needed to be told off. When my babies were still babies, people would say to us all the time, ‘are they twins?’ – and the easy way out would be for us to say yes – and that my wife and I were sisters, not married to each other – and move along.
But we never wanted our kids to lie about who they were and who we were – so even before they were able to understand English, we boldly explained who we all were.
And then dealt with the haters, the confusion, the looks…
As always, I think you are phenomenal. Beyond the beyond, Kelly Diels.
[Reply]
Annabel
replied:
on April 25th, 2010 at 7:38 am
@Julie Roads, Right on, Julie!
[Reply]
PicsieChick
replied:
on April 25th, 2010 at 10:09 am
@Julie Roads, Hey, Julie. You rock! I really admire you!
Hugs and butterflies,
~T~
[Reply]
I love your writing. I know this is a site for women, but I find it interesting to know what you think. Probably because I was divorced.
In my life I have known more than one man who raised his kids alone. Their wives left for whatever reason. Either way, it must be hell to have to do that.
I was married until my daughter left for college. If I have one trait that stands out it is loyalty. And commitment. OK, two traits.
During my single years I dated women for more than two years. Just when I thought that a good woman didn’t exist for me anymore, that most women had issues I couldn’t stand I met my now wife. We stand with each other. Period. Both coming from failed marriages, maybe we try harder.
All the best Kelly. Good men are out there. And as I discovered, so are good women. Both are rare.
[Reply]
Paddy
replied:
on April 25th, 2010 at 7:16 pm
@Hal Brown,
haha dude I aint no lady, this is the blog I read most.
[Reply]
Kelly! I want to reach out and give you a big hug. I understand – maybe not each instance – but the overall feeling. My youngest is 15 and I have two adult children living with me and I still get the selfish look/word thrown at me when I do something for me.
The number of times, even when I was still with their father, that people would ask if they were all from the same father. Just because I have six children – yes, all from the same father, from the same marriage – doesn’t necessarily mean I had them with multiple partners.
You should let your daughters know that people like that woman are hateful. Bitch is a mild word. I would have wanted to engage her fully. You are good!
[Reply]
Oh, Kelly … I ache for your evening and that tremendously bitchy woman and the headlight and I also feel so proud of you. You probably don’t feel it but you emanate strength and fierce mother love, you just do – your girls are lucky, lucky ladies to grow up with you as their sun. Seriously. I know it’s not the same, but please know that I’ve got your back. xo
[Reply]
OMG–been there, had this night, and I wasn’t even a single mom. I have bad news and good news. The bad news is: your daughters wont remember the clothes. Trust me, the outfits I meticulously handmade aren’t big in my older daughter’s memory. The outfits are for you. But the good news is: the mother you are, and I hope your “Bitch!” response was loud enough to be heard, that’s what they grow with. The mother you are informs the women they will become.
My daughters are 11 yrs apart. With the first I anxted over scuffed shoes, matching tights (yes you could get tights with rose-pink hearts), and perfect hair. Daughter #2 only got a couple of “made by mom” creations–and not nearly as much stress about presentation. The end result is that they both love me, but more important–they are secure enough in my love to love themselves.
You are giving your girls a powerful strength. Especially each time you question yourself and then keep going. You are amazing!
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I have no sadly have no magic bullet or even the wisdom of experience to offer you. I am not yet a parent, let alone a single one, and thus will not blindly claim to understand all you are going through.
Instead, I offer your what little support the internet can offer. You are not alone. Though amorphous we may be, there is friendship and support here for you. Those who commented before me show that in bunches. Keep your head up, and know we’re always here with a listening ear.
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Truth-telling, my friend. And beyond. You live it – in all its messiness, pain, and glorious, soaring-on-a-dragon ways.
And ambivalence? Rife and ripe in this one. No less beautiful.
‘SO with you in every scene, every emotion, every word spoken (and even those not), every tear, every scuffed shoe, every headlight, every doubt, every hope…
[Reply]
Wow! I love your writing and your openness. I hope you are saving your posts for your girls to read when they get older.They are an education.
It is, perhaps, sad that we are so “socially conscious” that we judge ourselves even before we get out the front door. And, then to have it happen in public!
As for the old lady: she apparently did stop the baby at the door (a good thing) and then decided to judge you (a dumb thing). I think maybe you should have looked her in the eye, laughed, and walked away. Might have made her think.
As to the “good man/woman/person” issue. We are all flawed and perfect in our flawed-ness. Sadly, I have been good and bad. Now I just try to be humble.
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The sad thing is that just about all of us worry about being terrible mothers and feel vulnerable to other people’s negative judgments, and if only we weren’t too shy or too scared to reach out to each other we’d see that. Instead, we are cowed by the asshole minority.
I totally relate about wanting to set a good example for your children—I once said “fuck you!” to someone in front of my son and felt terrible about it afterwards despite that person having roundly deserved it.
I think @Julie Roads is right. While we don’t want our children to go around saying “bitch!” or “fuck you!,” we do want them to learn to stick up for themselves and not apologize for who they are (including the clothes they wear!)
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I hate those moments when your parent-ness is called into question by complete strangers. I remember – as clear as day – a moment (and that’s all it was) when my daughter and I were in a waiting room at the hospital. She was about 1.5 years old at the time. And being the apparently bad parent that I am – I was letting her play with my pen. Of course I was at close range, of course my eyes were with her… and of course that complete stranger walked up to me and suggested to my face that I should take that murderous object away from my baby – that it was not a smart idea to let her handle the pen. In retrospect, I have come up with so many clever things to say back to that lady… it pains me that I didn’t have those words with me at the time.
Oh, and my now 6-year old daughter leaves the house looking like a rodeo clown… and so proud of it!
[Reply]
Kelly, I think the lady called you a bitch first. She just used other words to disguise what she meant.
Your daughters need to see what the boundaries are. You did not deserve to be treated like that.
I have had my share of those days. And no matter how shitty they are, they are still better than they would be if I had stayed in a loveless marriage.
My kids cut their own hair, wear mismatched socks, pink and orange, ties with tshirts. And they are REALLY happy.
[Reply]
Oh honey. What a day. But ye gods WHAT A POST! You are a kick-ass writer.
PS I always wish I was fast enough to say “bitch” in the moment, so I am PROUD of you that you did! You taught your daughter that you are on her side and you are on your OWN side, dammit!
[Reply]
Geesus Kelly, making me tear all before 8 am on an insomniac rainy Sunday morning.
What you described about parenting is all so real and normal, forget about dealing with racism and judgment and the evil goo that pours from sad, uptight, angry hurt people.
I wrote about the judgment I received while parenting and we were together (with a man who has my back–yes, they totally exist and one is magnetizing their way to you right now) AND his parents, the doting grandparents. Kids still runaway, get snotty dirty faces , act rude and have the tiniest attention span and people are still so judgmental.
I can’t believe the shit people throw my way and I’m in completely different shoes.
Here’s a piece I wrote about one crappy experience. http://infinitelearners.com/reprimand/
[Reply]
I am not yet a single mama, but I am trying to become one. Proudly and on purpose. So I obviously don’t think there’s anything wrong with single motherhood. I
I want to say that i think it’s GREAT that your daughter heard you call that woman a bitch!!!
That woman was insulting you and your family. Your daughter NEEDS to hear, loud and clear, that that will NEVER be okay with you. You standing up to that bitchy woman means your daughter knows that you are not ashamed, that you are PROUD of your family. As well you should be! This teaches her that she can be proud, too.
I think girls in today’s world need to hear more about standing up for themselves and less about being “nice.” If someone isn’t being nice to you, don’t be nice back!
Likewise, I know it must be agonizing, but I, for one, never think about parents when I see children as if they’d collided with a rainbow. I just assume I’ve got a creative child on my hands. I work with children so maybe I have a better understanding of kids than the average adult… but why does the average adult get a vote on how well parented your children are?
I know it’s a million times easier said than done… But I think you know you’re doing a good job with your children, and we readers think you are! So screw the bitchy women who sit behind us (in judgement, or not) in the movie theater!
[Reply]
Thanks for this post and your open, unflinching honesty! Can’t wait for you to master agamogenesis, since the world needs more smart, strong, bold, funny, bitch-calling, a**-kicking people like you my dear!
[Reply]
Oh, Kelly! My heart aches reading about your night. Tears in my eyes, I feel this. (and maybe my fear of exactly that sort of judgement was one of the myriad reasons I chose not to be a mother of human children & have dogs & cats instead!)
You need to know that, even though some of us are hundreds of miles away (or more), and even though it seems we exist only in the glow and buzz of an electric appliance, we really are substantial, we really are real, we really do love and admire you. From the tone of the responses here, it seems each of us, myself included, were right there, calling out a chorus of ‘bitch’ in unison with you. Oh, that she could have hear that!!
Keep the faith, beautiful. You have everything you need right in you. And there are men out there who would love nothing more than to have your back (I know this from my own highly blessed experience), and you will know each other when the time is exactly right.
Sending you hugs and brilliant orange, bright pink, royal purple and shimmering gold butterflies,
~T~
[Reply]
“Who calls another woman a bitch, in front of her own daughter?”
An awesome woman who’s setting an awesome example for her daughter while protecting her from psychic monkey poo being slung by an ignorant, self-righteous asshat.
[Reply]
Dear Kelly -
Been a “lurker” up until now although I always read your posts.
Had to respond to this one.
Iwas also a single Mom working full time with three boys who were holy terrors. They were only 18 months apart and what one didn’t think of doing, another did.
My doctor suggested I ask the village to install a bus line from my house to his office to handle the stiches, broken bones, concussions, fish hooks caught in hands – whatever.
My former mother in law was always threatening to report me to family services for neglect.
My most herrendous memory was the time I washed (and
dried) a frog in a pair of jeans.
They grew up. They graduated college. They all have great jobs. They call me every day.
I broke my thumb in a stupid accident and last night the oldest of the three came over after doing all my grocery shopping, he fixed a drawer that was broken, made dinner including a big salad, put out the garbage and cleaned everything up spotlessly.
This is just to reassure you that this period will come to an end and although I was too young, inexperienced and totally unprepared to be a mother.
We manage to do everything right anyway.
[Reply]
Wow Kelly – what a day, what a heart, what a pen!
I’m mad at that movie theater lady. And I’m working myself up thinking – what if you had been a single dad? Methinks the reaction would have been gentler, more sympathetic, perhaps even admiring. So while her real sins gall me, her imagined sins outrage me. I wonder what that says about me?
I keep telling myself (and now I’m telling you) to be glad they feel confident enough in your love to feel free to vent and misbehave and crazy dress around you. That childhood feistiness will mature into strong-willed (and backboned) adult. Hopefully strong-willed and economically solvent adult who will feel enough gratitude to support their mom into her dotage.
[Reply]
Wow, Kelly, I was cruising along that entry, empathising with you as I’ve raised four kids, much of the time on my own. I was relating, and with time separating me from my own experiences with such everyday things, I was even seeing the humour there. My kids and I are always remembering these kinds of experiences as we regularly get together. They are the things of memories and they will morph into good ones over time, as you all will celebrate your actions and how your children learned from you during these times.
And then, smack in the middle of your tale, I was hit by the Very Bad Lying Man reference and my gut twisted. Ugh! Bad experiences like those bestowed by the Very Bad Lying Man do haunt us and without warning can creep into the fabric of our lives.
How do we stop those evil attacks from continuing to raise their ugly heads? I was undermined just this week too. Maybe it’s a cycle that spiraling away from us.
We can only hope.
[Reply]
Damn you’re good. For what it’s worth, here’s another one who’s got your back.
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Few things make me as proud as hearing about a well delivered verbal beatdown. I owe you a meaty hive five.
I also don’t even come close to single mama stress, but I definitely know the day that can’t end fast enough and you just wanna curl up and bawl your eyes out for a spell in the hope that it might just make everything go away. ugh I do not like those days.
seriously, a deserved verbal beat-down is the kinda thing that makes kids go, ‘fucking A! mom’s badass!’ that kinda respect stacks ontop of the rest.
[Reply]
Good for you on calling her a bitch. She was being a bitch. That comment was WAY over the line. For all that mean old woman knows, you were happily married and your husband died. She doesn’t know your story and her comment was WAY out of line.
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As usual, your words sing to me in ways that no one else’s can. I’m glad that I recommended the movie to you gals.
For the record, your girls are beautiful. Wonderful. Delightful. Wild. And holy hell, I love ‘em to bits. As for wrangling, you know I’m always here for movie nights and outings. When compared to the little hellions that my nieces used to be, your girls are a piece of heaven. Just sayin’.
On the plus side: they dress far better than I did at their age. I think the other moms need to remember that they were young too. Young generally equivocates to boisterous and insane, which translates to: I will wear this pink and yellow jumper with bright purple stockings and brown shoes if I want to and there’s nothing you can do about it.
You roll with it.
You’re an awesome mama.
End of story.
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Sent this post to Facebook friends. One who is a single mom said, “Thanks so much for sharing this – subscribed! cleavage rocks
” Wanted you to know.
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I was originally going to sit this one out because although I have been worshiping at the temple for some time…i’m clearly not a goddess. I actually spent much of the day on Sunday thinking about this post and decided I needed to say my bit.
I was thrilled to come back and read the comments section, (which is my SECOND favorite part of your blog btw)and find that the thoughts that I had had all day had been echoed loud and clear by so many.
Before you spend another minute feeling awkward or guilty about shooting back at miss righteous think about the message that you would have been sending if you had said nothing or worse professed embarrassment and became apologetic. Not only would you have displayed to your children that you do not indeed have THEIR backs. You would have also validated the social commentary. People, including your sparkling little ones, have to know that it’s NOT ok to pass judgment on others. Sure yours was an emotional response. But you were dealt an emotional sucker punch right when you were feeling the most vulnerable.
As for your parenting? Your heart, honesty and transparent parental style will trump any manufactured and artificial front of the “Shiny and Money” set any old day. I’ve no doubt that this will become more obvious when you and your daughters grow more together while other “fake” familys are falling apart. Besides, perfectly matched families doubtfully have the time or inclination to blog about and explore their love for each other in as much rich detail as you do on a daily basis.
-J
PS: Bitch is lucky I was not within earshot. I once chased another patron out of a McRestraunt and down the street because they called one of the behind the counter staff stupid to her face.
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Amanda
replied:
on April 27th, 2010 at 11:30 pm
@John C Davies, HAH! John, you win at life.
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John C Davies
replied:
on April 28th, 2010 at 11:31 am
@Amanda, Not going #FTW I just want to place or finish. The win is kinda like winning at an mmorpg. Elusive at best and strangely unsatisfying when and if ever achieved. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.
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Hey Kelly,
I have a million thoughts on this post, but most of them are similar to what everyone else has written. I have only been reading you short time and you have already become one of my favorites.
I am also pleasantly surprised to find out that you are a fellow Bi-racial mama. Sweet! One of my biggest bitches on this topic is when people assume or ask me if my daughter is adopted. Grrrrr. I endured 19 1/2 hours of intense and death-defying labor. I have nursed her for 2 years and counting. No, she is not fucking adopted.
Even though I said I wasn’t going to repeat others’ responses I also want to say, good for you for calling that bitch out. I probably would let out a whole slew of obscenities at her and just reinforced the negative slutty white mama image in her mind. Whatever. People will think what they think.
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Gosh Kelly, I’m probably the same age as that “older lady” (you even have the grace to call her a LADY?) and I cannot imagine how horribly embittered she must be. One wonders what she was doing at that movie at all. I was a single mom for most of my daughters’ childhood and remember having the same crap flung at me. I wish I’d had your courage to lash back. My daughters have turned out great and remember their childhood as happy. Just keep on doing what you’re doing – it’s marvellous.
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Oh damn Kelly. I’m not even a mom and your post moved me to tears. I’ve been beside you cheering you on through the PUA and the like, but never been in tears before. Know that I’m behind you and thanks for widening my eyes.
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Reading this post got me SOOOO angry.
I HATE it when people judge mothers. It’s one of the HARDEST jobs in the world so when people assume that you’re supposed to be perfect in every way and your kids should follow that perfection, it drives me crazy. I applaud you for snipping at the old lady. How dare her assume that YOUR plan in life wasn’t to have BOTH your kids’ parents around. It’s not that simple to think life will turn out the way you planned. What if God forbid, their father was no longer alive? How dare she say such a mean and bitchy thing to you? AND that movie was for KIDS!! I would’ve continued my conversation with her and asked her where her kids were and why the hell is she seeing a kiddy movie and getting mean with KIDS!!!!
In the end we can’t please everyone and trying to make sure people don’t place judgment on us as parents, is a never ending job. I say forget em. Do you and focus on your kids which you obviously are. You’re an amazing mom and your kids will appreciate it and they are the ones who really matter.
There’s a saying we have in Jamaica when people say or do something stupid to or around us (I’ll translate it to English since we usually say it in patois
) ” If it’s not gonna change the price of rice in my life then it doesn’t matter.”
Have a great day hon!
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Kelly I feel you! Fine you called the old lady a b**** – So what! You are only human. We strive to be responsible accountable parents and people but as we are mere humans that always fall short of the glory of God what do you expect.
I also took my children to see this movie, with my brother helping; they ran us round in circles. The little one [2+ years] ate popcorn and fell asleep promptly while the older one [4+ years] shouted he wanted to go home initially but later sat entranced in his seat as he sucked in the movie – as the little boy befriended the most dreaded dragon and changed a whole clan of people and their beliefs and attitudes..
In our parenting journey our kids exhibit unique individual characteristics which often push and rebel at our authority. And as parents we are strive to maintain an equilibrium we often are pushed beyond our limits and need ultimate self control to keep ourselves in check.
Focus on makings sure your kids are loved and healthy and leave the world to their judgment and criticism.
God is the only Judge I vale or worry about; I see judgmental people as people who are weak and incomplete and have an innate need to undermine other to feel strong and whole.
I applaud you as you raise two kids on your own it is no small feat; For me even with my hussy still in attendance it is a “Hair-Raising” experience for me.
I love your blog and your uniqueness. I salute you and congratulate you on your win over at David Risley’s blog
Please visit my blog and give your honest advice or opinion – I need comments desperately.
Also permit me to put you on my Blogroll.
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when i get the honor of photographing you.. please let them dress themselves!
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