Crummy Mummy and Quality Time
29.08.08
Guess How Crummy Mummy Bonds?
by Deborah Peraya
#4
To: vivi@gmail.com
From: HYPERLINK "mailto:babe@daddygone.ca" babe@daddygone.ca
Subject: Re: Re: all Mother Theresa
I’ve got a kid, girlfriend. I don’t have time to do good deeds. Like I don’t have enough stress as a mother without Oprah’s terms and conditions. Where’s the appreciation for me?
And I hate all this “take time for yourself” crap. What time?
You’ve got to feed your kid, educate them and spend time with them, leaving zero time for moi. But I’ve got that kid stuff all covered off. Mostly because I don’t have any friends anymore.
The kid comes shopping with me. That’s the spending time part. We spend time in malls. I’ve also educated her. (Did I mention I had was a girl?) I’ve taught her to watch “What Not To Wear” so she knows the rules. Because when she says “mama, that’s pretty,” I don’t want it to be because I’m wearing some Barbie slut princess outfit, which is the only idea of fashion that she has. And feeding? Two words: food court. And as an added bonus, I’ve even taught her fiscal responsibility. She now knows how much lunch twenty bucks from her piggy bank will buy us. Easy peasy.
Crap, I think I heard a thud. Gotta run!
To: vivi@gmail.com
From: HYPERLINK "mailto:babe@daddygone.ca" babe@daddygone.ca
Subject: Re: Re: all Mother Theresa
I’ve got a kid, girlfriend. I don’t have time to do good deeds. Like I don’t have enough stress as a mother without Oprah’s terms and conditions. Where’s the appreciation for me?
And I hate all this “take time for yourself” crap. What time?
You’ve got to feed your kid, educate them and spend time with them, leaving zero time for moi. But I’ve got that kid stuff all covered off. Mostly because I don’t have any friends anymore.
The kid comes shopping with me. That’s the spending time part. We spend time in malls. I’ve also educated her. (Did I mention I had was a girl?) I’ve taught her to watch “What Not To Wear” so she knows the rules. Because when she says “mama, that’s pretty,” I don’t want it to be because I’m wearing some Barbie slut princess outfit, which is the only idea of fashion that she has. And feeding? Two words: food court. And as an added bonus, I’ve even taught her fiscal responsibility. She now knows how much lunch twenty bucks from her piggy bank will buy us. Easy peasy.
Crap, I think I heard a thud. Gotta run!