I’ve been working on this post for a little while.
Now it’s Saturday and familial visits are imminent, which leaves me bugger all time between disguising my inadequacy as a homemaker to cobble something else together, so it’s finally going to get the chance to go live and destroy any credibility I previously held.
Whether you’ve raised your kid ‘by the book’ or taken a more by-the-seat-of-your-pants approach, we all feel the crushing weight of keeping up with the Joneses at one time or another.
I was put in this position recently and opted, rather than attempt to justify myself, for graciously rolling over and prepping them a nifty, pre-written list for the next time they attempt a public character defamation.
This is the result:
10 Reasons I’m A Crap ‘Offbeat Parent’ And You Should Probably Kick Me Out Of Your Gang…
- Despite having all the fashion sense of a four year old with a Visa, my pre-baby identity really wasn’t hella ‘alternative’ to begin with.
- I gave birth Queen Victoria style; in hospital, on my back, legs akimbo with a lot of bleeping machines and people in white coats. By choice. In fact the only reason I wasn’t so off my face on prescription meds that I would have barely remembered I owned a vagina let alone was about to squeeze a large watermelon through it was pure circumstance.
- I don’t know how to pronounce the word ‘doula’.
- I refuse to do yoga, pilates, tai chi…in fact anything that requires me to sweat in public, wear a pair of trousers that cost more than my entire underwear drawer or put conscious effort into breathing. I have enough to juggle in a day without becoming hyper aware of an unconscious bodily function.
- My position as an extremely vocal, big leftie feminist doesn’t make me avant guarde it just means I’m not a dickhead.
- Despite feeling very lucky my son likes vegetables and eats a vaguely balanced diet a good 50% of the time – the other 50% he is entirely sustained on Mini Cheddars, Petit Filous and bottles of sweet tea. I lose no sleep whatsoever over this. Furthermore if I could only eat one category of produce for the rest of my life it would be that well known food group ‘pig’.
- Frank continues to ardently not defy gender sterotypes and blossom into a stringent heterosexual. He’s basically a 2 (and a bit) ft. tall bloke who likes blondes, cars, trains and bashing things with other things. I secretly wish he was flamboyantly gay.
- As a family we watch a fairly middling amount of television – along with the children’s programmes on Milkshake, I’m of the opinion Pointless, Homes Under The Hammer and NCIS are all integral to a well rounded cultural capital.
- I’m a co-sleeper fo’ life kind of girl. I still enjoy a snuggle with my Moobli and shared a bed (on occasion) well into my teens. If the little guy still wants to bunk in with mum when he’s older I couldn’t give a flying fuck – he crawled out of my lady bits, sorry guys, but those ‘propriety’ boundaries were crossed ages ago.
- I have a horror of child rearing related jargon, including but not limited to, all variations of the phrase ‘offbeat parent’…
As a final aside before I’m condemned to baby laundry hell; if anybody reading this is struck with the overwhelming desire to add their own reasons to the list, come on in – the water’s lovely.