Written by Emily
I used to think Mommy Wars didn’t exist. I used to think the concept was perpetuated by bloggers and media outlets to reinforce the notion that women are judgmental and catty, the witches that fairy tales use as villains. Surely, Mommy Wars were just another way to justify criticizing women. After all, oppressing women through each other is brilliant and horrible and exactly what advertisers do everyday: marinate women’s psyches in unrealistic expectations until they judge one another and themselves.
I wanted to believe that in the real world we’re all in this together, part of the same parenting club. We’re all doing the best we can with what (love, energy, resources) we’ve got. Right? I assumed head-to-head parenting disagreements were fiction. They’re not.
I was naive to think we could coexist, making our own decisions and supporting one another. I have had it with this particular mom. She tests me and challenges me daily. She’s not on my team. We’re rivals. And this has been going on for weeks. I wouldn’t care about her choices if she didn’t throw them in my face on a regular basis.
I gave her the benefit of the doubt for a long time. I even tried to defend her to other moms, but they looked at me like I had three heads. I actually put myself out there for her. For what? To be made to look like a fool–a tired, desperate fool. I’m embarrassed.
Fool me once and all of that. I’m prepared to throw down and throw down hard.
As I write this, I’m strategizing. I’ve been standing in front of the mirror rehearsing my lines over and over again because I don’t want to falter. The thing is, confrontation is not really my strong suit. I’d rather avoid it all costs. I hate to use her name because I’m not into public shaming, but she can’t sue me for libel if everything I say is true.
I’m calling you out, “Mother” Nature. You’re mean.
You gave the children a taste of sunshine as though it were a colorful lollipop and then snatched it from their pudgy, sticky fingers. Do you even like children? Two soccer practices were canceled so far. There were tears. Some from the kids. Some from me. Why would you do that? Why?
When the sun is back to stay and summer rolls up to our doorsteps, the kids will still be in school–driving their teachers and parents batty, pacing like caged animals because you gave them the “gift” of 125 snow days. No respectable mother thinks that’s a good idea–jeopardizing kids’ educations and other mothers’ sanity. You’re cruel.
It’s March 25th. I’m watching snow fall outside the window. “Do another craft,” you taunt while the kids fight over the paints, and glitter joins the party. “Read more books,” you laugh as Sylvie tears out the pages. “Visit the State Museum,” you howl with the bone chilling wind as someone’s crusty, gooey toddler chews the blocks. “There’s always the library,” you scoff knowing full well we won’t get out of there without a tantrum because we “need all of the books. ALL OF THEM!” You are harsh and unyielding, and I’m saying, “ENOUGH!”
The next move is yours, Mother Nature.
But I’m prepared to rally the troops–all of the moms around the world who have suffered through your shenanigans for much too long. I know you’re way more connected than I am and despite my ability to curl a whopping 20 pounds, you can do more damage. I know you have a temper and have a history of blowing up with little warning.
But here’s the deal. We’ve survived irrational toddlers, petulant children, hormonal tween and teens–all indoors for months. We’re harried and ragged but not broken…yet. There’s a crazed glint in our eyes, a desperation seeping from our pores.
If I were you, Mother Nature, I’d stand down. Stand down.