Don't get me wrong - I will judge the peg-legged, high-waisted pants right off you & into the nearest Goodwill bin when it comes to your actual pants. With age-old mothering choices, however, like whether to work or stay at home (for those of us with the choice, I hasten to add), my stance is that I have no stance. I will not presume to tell you what is right for your family - not not not, you can't make me, nannynannybooboo.
These ruminations came to a head for me yesterday when I realized I was censoring myself here. I'd wanted to get your advice about hiring a . . . wait for it . . . part-time nanny to help me out with Master P while I run errands a couple of mornings each week & for the occasional date night; more specifically, I'd wanted your help figuring out the right questions to ask in an interview I held yesterday. I didn't say anything, though, for fear of the Internet Mommy Police, whom I've seen terrorize my Invisible Internet Friends over such questions. Their scintillating insights usually run along the lines of "You get to be a stay-at-home mom, you spoiled whinypants - why would you need help? Isn't your job to do just that - stay at home?"
You can presume how I feel about censorship, a practice common in Communist countries; said nations rarely have good shoes, so my feelings on the matter go without saying. Plus, most of us here on the web - at least, here in my seersucker-striped, pink and green corner of it - exist to help one another figure out such questions. We're all trying to do this mom stuff as best we can, in the way that works best for us, which may not be the best for you.
Realizing that most of us are here for the right reasons, I'm coming out of the maternal closet & firmly stating - I absolutely love doing this stay-at-home mom gig, but I do need help on occasion too. I'd like the opportunity to make a doctor's appointment sans crawling-squeaking-fiddling-with-medical-equipment adorable Master P. To go to the grocery store without my wee Houdini wiggling out of the shopping cart & into the salad dressing stand. To find time to do some volunteer work and get involved in our church. To get some exercise without relying on my gym's "Lord of the Flies" -style childcare, or torturing Master P more often than necessary with the long stroller walks he detests & gets bored on in approximately 10.2 minutes:
|It's like a game of iSpy - how many toys / snacks / drinks does it take to keep him entertained on walks?|
|Don't be fooled by those baby blues - there's a stroller rebellion fomenting (name that "Office" episode!) in there...|
With a husband who works wonky hours & no family here in town,
So let's lay down our mommy arms and get back to the business of judging not one another but Prettier matters, like this hideous mismatched grunge trend that seems to be creeping up on us (et tu, Miss Tory?)... failing that, feel free to give me finding caretaker advice or lecture on what an absentee mother I am in the comments, please and thank you.