I hope you guys can read this, because I don’t know how to make it any bigger. The basic gyst of this article is that someone has written in complaining that their friend who has a kid won’t make time to call or answer an email. The writer of the question is then shamed for asking such a silly question because everyone KNOWS how hard it is to have babies…right?
I found this little gem on Facebook, and I suppose – being one who has procreated – I am supposed to fall in line to support my procreation sisterhood. Well, I’m not. Screw that.
Whiny stay-at-home moms have always mystified me. Nobody complains louder about having a harder job than women who have babies and choose to stay at home with them. When I had little ones, I would have JUMPED at the chance to stay home with my kids. For a span of about 10 months, I was able to do that during my older son’s first year. It was a fucking BREEZE. We hung out, I fed him, we watched Disney movies, occasionally we would go to Walmart, and I took him to get all his immunizations. What the fuck is so hard about that? Seriously.
I think it is a legitimate complaint that someone has about a friend that won’t respond because they are just so engrossed in everything their kid does, like it’s the first time any kid has ever shit, pissed, cried, got a tooth, took a step, or said “GAH.” These women want to be glorified and canonized for taking responsibility for their children. Fuck that…you had them, you need to take care of them. What stay-at-home moms fail to realize or acknowledge is the blank check they have been given. Lot’s of OTHER women don’t have the LUXURY of staying home with their kids, and you don’t hear THEM whining. Why can’t you hear them? Because you are too busy vilifying them for being irresponsible and having children when they don’t have the resources to care for them OR you are too busy complaining that you don’t have enough “mommy time.” WTF?
I am so sick and tired of hearing stay-at-home moms whine, bitch, and complain. You wouldn’t get to stay at home with your kids if you weren’t suckling off of SOMEBODY’S teet, now would you? I have a question…if you stay-at-home moms are so untouchable and gleaming with perfection, why is it your kids that I hear screaming in the grocery store? Why are your kids the only ones running unsupervised up and down the aisles at Target? You know how I know they are your kids? Because your cart is filled with the kind of material things that bored women buy…towels, sheets, scrapbooking supplies, MORE clothes and “convenience for mommy” items for your kids…oh, and antimicrobial ANYTHING…and meanwhile, your perfect little breastfed baby Einsteins are ripping open every pack of toilet paper in the store. Looks like somebody needs a “time-out.”
Good, sturdy moms can manage anything. My children were silent and by my side at all times. I have no problem correcting my children, and they knew better than to run away from me, lest I crack their bare ass with my hand. They say “please” and “thank you” and they know all of my friends because I still managed to socialize – I just brought the kids along. Being a mother does NOT define a person. Eventually those kids will grow up and be just fine without you running behind them, wiping the graham cracker crumbs from their face or the germs from their hands.
Having had to work to support my family, my children understand self-sufficiency and the importance of a strong work ethic. They understand that there are very real consequences to their bad behaviors, and I am not talking about three minutes in an armchair. They know that things aren’t just HANDED to them…privileges must be earned. These are things that cannot be TAUGHT by a stay-at-home mom, because these are – in fact – things that said mommies have yet to learn, themselves.
So, in conclusion, all you whiny-ass SAH mothers out there can take all your mommy time, shove it in the back of your 8-passenger SUV with the TV/DVD combos on the back of each seat that your dutiful, overworked husband bought for you, and cram it up your ass – sideways.
Oops. Gotta run. Jack Daniels and I have a play date. KISSES!
