Is He A Mom?
May 2, 2006
If you don’t know what I am talking about, consider yourself lucky.
I wasn’t going to write about the new “club” website, for a variety of reasons, mostly related to the fact that Andrew Shue and Meredith Viera sent me an email which basically said, you suck! go away! no soup for you! Those might not have been their exact words, but that was the gist of the email.
And so, I resolved not to like the new club thing, but then the more I read about people I actually like that have gotten the jobs, the more my resolve has weakened. Jenny is so hysterically funny, that I am sure I’ll have to read her new blog just because of that.
And Jenn, she is going to be writing about life with tweens. And I have a tween. And yesterday we both agreed that tweens are at their cutest when they are asleep. Maybe she’ll have ideas on how to harness the tween power for good, or else how to make them sound more appealing on ebay. Maybe she will give me insight into how a child who is so smart can not find a damn thing in this house, or his bedroom.
Or why we have to use that word tween. I hate it. It sounds way too nice for this bad attitude, eye rolling, know it all and don’t you forget it age. I think royal pain in the ass would be a much better moniker. The world royal in deference to their own personal belief that they are in charge. I like the way that blogger spell check suggests the word twine instead, because I’d like to tie him up with twine some days.
I don’t begrudge anyone their job. I am sure that they will all be great at what they are writing about. But I am left with the thought that perhaps Andrew Shue and Meredith Viera found out I have never watched an episode of their respective tv shows.
But Lucinda gave me a perfect post award. And that was nice and made me happy. It was for my BREEDER!!!1! post. Which, btw, if you really want to buy a tshirt you can by clicking on them. They are customizable (is that even a word?) which mean you can, you know, customize them to suit yourself. Really, chris, is that what that means?
Today I am going to torture myself by going to Old Navy with my children, including a surly 11 year old who will be hell bent and determined to not like a single thing that I suggest. All last week I asked him to please go through his room and look for his summer clothing so that we could figure out what, if anything, still fits him.
He came down several times telling me that he had no summer clothes at all, not one t-shirt, not one pair of shorts… nothing. And my questions about what could have possibly happened to all his clothing were met with eye rolling and exasperation.
Yesterday I went into his
hovel bedroom to turn off the light, because at 11 years old he still hasn’t mastered the light switch. It is such a complicated apparatus after all. I happened to glance into his closet. There amongst the rubble spilling out, were a huge pile of his summer clothes, folded neatly on the shelf where I must have put them in the fall.
It turns out that not a single item of clothing fit him. I can’t believe how fast he is growing. Or how much food he is eating. He even eats stuff he doesn’t like simply because he is hungry. People had told me that one day my sons would eat everything that wasn’t nailed down and that I would need to get a job just to keep my boy posse in snacks, but I thought they were exaggerating. Turns out they weren’t.
And I hate having to tell my boys, sorry no more snacks for you. It is Mommy’s fault for never having watched Melrose Place. I’m sorry, perhaps you can go graze in the yard we do have a lot of overgrown grass that might be tasty.
Updated to add:
I have NOTHING against the moms who took the clubmom jobs AT ALL. In fact I really like all of the women that I know of who have accepted the jobs. And while I’d like to act all superior and like I didn’t really want the job, the fact is that they turned me down and I am disappointed, more than I would really ever let on. It’s much easier to throw rocks at their clubhouse and pretend I don’t want to be a member.
But truthfully, if Andrew Shue called me up, or emailed, or had one of his henchwomen, like Meredith, email, I would totally netflix every episode of Melrose Place and maybe even wear a pink sweater set and strand of pearls while I blogged. I have seven kids to put in braces, one after another. Oh and who am I kidding, lots of shoes that would love to live in my closet aka Club Shoe.
So while I appreciate everyone’s supportive comments, please tread lightly so as not to cause hurt feelings.
But did you see over there in my sidebar… I have an ad! So click on it or something.
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