You know how being a girl means that you're required to hate certain other girls? Like the one that stole your best friend's boyfriend, or the one that's trying on the same dress as you in the change room and makes you look hideous when you stand next the her in the three-way mirror? No, me neither. I'm much bigger a person than that. Right.
Being a mommy nowadays, it seems like so much is about cultivating this impressive persona of: caring, dedication, 24/7 availability, craftiness and domestic superheroism. I can't meet those standards, as can't a lot of us. So we choose to be envious and pick away at the perfection.
"Did you see what her son was eating? I think it was a NutriGrain bar! There's so much sugar in those and I'm sure it wasn't organic! I don't even think it was name brand. Why doesn't she just pump him full of ritalin, right now?"
See? Being a mom is fun.
Then, I met my match. MomBabe.
She's got great hair, even when she's claiming it's ridiculous. She's got four shortlings to my one. She met her husband somehow that led to a kiss after some roof jumping, or something like that. And worse yet, she can leave glue on a table and have a stapler in a house, and no one's required a call to poison control or stitches, yet. She's some damn perfection, that one.
Yet I just can't hate her.
I can't barely even envy her, in that green, sickly sweet, I'll-kiss-your-ass-so-I-get-
I mean, she blogs these photos of things they all have made. Seems like I should be able to say something about that, right? Nada. It's too cute.
Then, she posted that video of herself singing. That's gold. But, still nothing. Cuz I totally got that that computer kept getting touched.
She's not going to be allowed to pick tomatoes in less than two weeks and I can't even mock her for that. Because it was just too funny that tasks like that were specificially mentioned.
You know why? Because she's someone who would add me to the Xmas card list, make my kid a Halloween costume and ask me for a hand that avails creative control without a timeline. Damned perfection, I say.
I guess I have one thing to make fun of her for. She was silly enough to invite me to guest post.