A Real Domestic Disaster (a.k.a. Bad Mom)
I watched and loved Bad Moms and Bad Moms Christmas. Hilarious, but absolutely inaccurate when it comes to actual bad moms. Sure, movies aren't real, so we allow for a bit of creative license, but they get the motherhood just so wrong. Here's why...
In the movie, Amy is always rushing around and chronically late. Amy has a part-time job. Allow me to repeat that. Amy has a part-time job. Where is she rushing to and from with a part-time job? Maybe I'm missing something. Maybe I overlooked a key plot in the movie. I know plenty of mom who works full-time jobs who don't rush around like that, and who are extremely punctual. Now, maybe they wanted to show how frazzled a mom can be when struggling to meet unrealistic motherhood demands. I'll give them that. We've all be frazzled a time or two. But what I'm not doing, nor is a single mom I know doing, is zipping around town, skidding to stops, sliding into parking spots, running through stores, and late to pick up our kids due to our ridiculously hectic schedule. Yes, this includes working moms.
Look, I know soccer moms, dance moms, cheer moms, karate moms, academic moms, Pinterest moms... You name the type of mom, I know one. None of them are anything remotely like any of the moms portrayed in the movie.
And seriously, Amy must get insane alimony/child support, or live off of trust fund, because there's not a person alive who can afford that house on a part-time salary. Hell, I know plenty of people who couldn't afford that house on two full-time salaries, so, yeah. There's that. But just so you don't think I'm crapping on the Bad Moms franchise, I actually like the movies because they're funny as sh*t. I'm just sick of the absurd portrayal of the so-called 'bad moms'.
I actually prefer the term Domestic Disaster.
Okay, for real, I don't like the term 'bad mom' because being an average mom isn't a bad mom at all. We're just your run-of-the-mill moms. The ones who don't even try to fake it on social media. We're the ones who drink beer/wine. We put our kids to bed early sometimes because we can't take hearing "mom" one more time. We hide in the bathroom to eat cake. We are the world's warriors, holding our families together because we're moms and that's what we do. We shop at Wal-Mart/Target/Old Navy because omg, clothes are so friggin' expensive. Often, we look homeless because we can't afford new clothes for ourselves and our kids, so our kids come first. We are entrepreneurial, figuring out how to start, and run, small businesses so we can work from home and raise our kids. Yeah, sometimes we rush around, and sometimes we're late, but it's not habitual - and we certainly don't hold ourselves up to some crazy grand standard of mommyhood.
And if our kids ever - EVER - spoke to us in the snippy tone those kids talk to the mothers in Bad Moms, we'd be getting a visit from Child Services after the fact. Actually, it would never get that far because we nipped that crap in the bud from birth. Unicorn Moms raise well-mannered and respectful kids.
Domestic Disasters are perfectly imperfect - and we don't give a single f*ck. Not one. Not now. Not ever.
Domestic Disasters don't need to get piss drunk in the mall while Holiday shopping because we never put that sort of sickening pressure on ourselves.
And do you really still shop at the mall? Good lord! Ever hear of Amazon? What are you, some sort of animal living in 1995? I price compare the sh*t out of things because I lack the luxury of paying inflated prices for that damn Littlest Pet Shop play-set my 7 year old must have.
Domestic Disasters don't live in tidy homes. A clean home, yes. But tidy? Hahahahaha Yeah, no. If you're coming over, you have to let us know an hour in advance because we have to hide the messes our kids left all over the place that we were too tired to pick up.
Some of us work out of the home. Some, like me, work from the home. Others are able to devote their entire selves to their home.
It's the rare Domestic Disaster who goes to the gym. Most of us just eat food that fell on the floor that we forgot to pick up when it dropped as we cleaned up breakfast.
We don't pick our older kids up from the bus stop. They have legs. They know where they live. They can walk the block or two without us.
We don't feed our kids healthy snacks, and if they annoy us long enough, we totally let them eat candy for breakfast. And yep, we toss a piece of candy in their lunch box because they'll only end up throwing out the apple we want to give them.
We, for sure, don't feel bad that our kids don't eat organic.
And sometimes, we cry in the shower, but I'll get to why later.
Domestic Disasters are the beautiful messes of the mommy world. We are the foundation that "good moms" stand upon. We are tattooed, maybe even pierced. Other mothers might hesitate to leave their kids with us during playdates, but you know what? Our kids are usually better behaved than theirs anyway, so we couldn't care less if that snooty mom judges us. We wear leggins - and not the LuLaRoe kind. I'm talking the $3.95 Wal-Mart kind. We're not cheering on our kids at soccer. We're not sitting in waiting room for hours while our kids practice cheer. We aren't going to recitals. And we aren't proud our kids moved up a belt in karate. Why? Because our kids aren't in any of those things. That sh*t's expensive! Unicorn Moms can't afford to put our kid in cheer - at least not without fundraising, and trust me, we don't know enough people to raise more than the cost of a pack of gum.
I love my fellow Domestic Disasters. Seriously. I do. You ladies are the salt of the earth, and without you, I'd just be crying in the shower alone. I mean, I am alone in there, but...not. You know? We're all in there together but separately, weeping like little b*tches because all we want is one whole day where we can brag that we took a sh*t in private.