Trawling through some of these yummy/scummy mummy blogs I found myself nodding off pretty quickly, as one sad episode blurred into another. And that was without a glass of Pinot. These women are obviously determined to be sensational, and the way to do that, it seems, is to be outrageous. If they can’t find something unsavoury to say about their kids, they resort to the kind of language that would have earned my brothers a clip around the earhole.
I’m pretty sure most of it is tongue in cheek (or tongue in bottle), and some of it is quite amusing if there’s nothing good on Netflix, but the sad thing is that this kind of blog appeals to those mums out there who really do find motherhood to be one enormous chore. Thank god, someone else out there feels the same. Someone else can relate to the tedium and frustration, to the misery and despair. And all the while the yummies are rubbing their hands in glee and clinking glasses. Bottoms up.
At the other extreme you have the self-righteous bunch, soothing their little bundles in their rocking chairs, sipping their herbal teas and swapping crochet patterns. All that talk of breastfeeding, pureeing and cotton versus wool is enough to make the rest of us reach for the bottle (gin or formula, take your pick).
I like to believe I have forged my own path, without too much crazy in either direction. My approach has always had its own sprinkle of irreverence, albeit without any help from a bottle. People who don’t know me might not appreciate my brand of humour, however, so I will let you judge. Let me give you a recent example.
Child #6, the drama student, approached while I was dutifully preparing dinner, in a respectable ‘good example of parenting’ manner (even though my kitchen repertoire consists of three meals, give or take one or two). ‘Do you think I’m too ugly to be an actress?’ she asked. ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ I replied, not even looking up from the kale I was chopping. ‘That’s what they have make-up departments for.’
Inspiration struck today at ... Home, in the West Village
This isn’t the best coffee joint on the planet, as the beloved hot beverage can only be found in a jar (thumbs up from the scummy mummies) and often we have run out of milk (looks of disapproval from the self-righteous brigade).Pros: the bathroom is so convenient and always clean.
Cons: the early part of the day might be interrupted by the rumble of snores from the bedroom where He Who Knows Best is still catching up on his beauty sleep.
