I don’t know what the big whoop is about Mother’s Day. (This is my 5th one BTW–how many more do I have to endure?!) Here’s what I know, apparently some dude named Hallmark decided that mothers deserve a holiday just for getting knocked up. Here’s my issue: Without me she wouldn’t even be a mom! Shouldn’t SHE be the one making ME the finger-painted tribute?
If there’s one thing Mother’s Day has got me to do it’s start looking to the future. I’m a planner. (ie. When I take off my sand-filled shoes after a visit to the park I always make sure to dump them out on the living room rug. That way my dolls can hang out at the beach. Don’t miss these opportunities, folks!)
You gotta think ahead. That’s why I’m currently collecting ammunition to use against my mom during my inevitable hormonal teenage rages, you know, when I’m screaming, “I HATE YOU!” at the top of my lungs.
1) It’s Your Fault I’m Not a Super Model!
First of all my mom is 5′ 2″. That makes her near dwarf status. Last I checked “Little People” were not sashaying down the Paris runways sporting the latest Marc Jacobs line. Unless I plan to hang out with Snow White when I grow up I’m SOL.
2) It’s Your Fault I Can’t Cook!
My mom has no domestic skills beyond heating up a frozen Trader Joe’s pizzas. And even THAT she gets wrong. Even her breast milk was a little off. The woman under cooks everything– it’s a miracle I wasn’t born premature.
3) It’s Your Fault I’m Not a Child Prodigy!
I’ll never go to the Olympics, perfect a triple Lutz, or perform in the Philharmonic. My mom — the antithesis of a Tiger Mom — has not even attempted to explore my child-prodigy capabilities. When I was 2, instead of starting me out with intensive daily violin lessons she got me a LeapFrog Learn & Groove Alphabet Drum and called it a day.
4) It’s Your Fault I’m Addicted to Junk Food!
All that brown rice, tofu and healthy snack shit that she shoved down my throat is surely going to backfire when I discover the Quarter Pounder. Then I’ll have to make up for lost time. The result? Every pimple I get will have her name on it.
5) It’s Your Fault I Can’t Relate to My Peers!
I never get to watch TV at my house (although I have an extensive dvd collection–yeah Pixar!). It’s fine for now but when I’m in elementary school and my friends are rapping about iCarly I won’t know what the f*ck they’re talking about. I’ll be a social outcast, culminating with me hanging out in the school parking lot smoking ciggies or captain of treasury of chess team.
6) It’s Your Fault I Have No Self-Discipline!
The saga of the “chore chart” is just one of many examples of how she’s failing me. When she first put the damn thing up everything chore I did netted me some awesome stickers. Later I got to cash them in for fabulous prizes like gummy worms. That lasted less than a month–nice way to teach me the virtues of hard work and dedication. I can’t wait to throw that shit back in her face when I flunk Algebra.