I Don't Care About Your Kids and I'm Not Really All About Mine Either

Here's the funny thing about mommyblogs, the good ones are about mommies. Sure they include a few posts now and again about the kids that make that woman the mommy she is, but for the most part, they're not about the kids. They're about the struggles those kids put her through, but not about the kids themselves. Because? As George Carlin once said, "I don't give a fuck about your kids. That's why they're yours!"

And really, truly we don't. Do we? Care about other bloggers' kids? I don't.

I don't want them to run out in front of a car, or jump from a third story balcony, or drown in the community pool. I care about them to the extent of not wanting them to die, but lets face it that only rates them right about equal with the neighbor's dog on my list of priorities. Unless we're talking about the neighbor's dog down the road to the west, in which case they rate a bit higher because I'd like to run that little fucker over with my car. Twice.

No, really. Twice.

But I digress, it's about not being about the kids. And it applies to real life too. What I've observed is that the good mommies, the mommies I want to hang out with, the mommies I want to be? They're not about the kids. They have kids, hence the title 'Mommy', but they're not about them. They're about the hot lifeguard they saw at the pool, the kickass documentary they watched during naptime last week, and if I'm lucky they're about a mojito and a long day in the sun. And it doesn't make them just good mommies for me to drink myself out of stress with, either. They're damn good mommies at being mommies for it.

And you know what, so am I.

I'm not about the kids and mommy isn't my only title. As a matter of fact, it's not even the one I bear most proudly most of the time. It's not the one I mention first, it rarely defines even a portion of me, and that's OK. It's really, really OK. I love my kids and I make more sacrifices for them everyday than I have ever made previous to them in my life; probably more than I ever will again. But those sacrifices, if I'm to be honest with myself, are only a marginal part of those days. They're not worth dwelling on. And those kids? They're not what defines me. And so, yes most of the time I don't have much to say about them. They're doing well. They're growing, they're learning, they're making me go gray. They're doing all the things kids should do and man is it an amazing thing to watch, but lets do eachother a favor, next time we get together lets not talk about that. Lets talk about the cute waiter, the sinful chocolate cake we both want for desert and the best book of the year that just came out. Because yes, we're mommies, but we're women too and don't we deserve a break from being about the kids sometimes?

Or if you think I'm a terrible mother for even thinking these things and can't help yourself but talk about your kids and all their accomplishments, at least try not to blame me when my eyes glaze over and I bury my head in my margarita, knodding only occasionally. I warned you, after all. I just don't care about your kids and I'm really not all about mine either.

Call me what you will.