Have you noticed this new trend of people identifying their dinner/lunch/snack/fruit/vegetable/onesie/diaper/tampon/ etc. etc. etc. as “organic?” I mean, I think organic is totally the way to go too, and I do it when I can (although I’m not all crazy sauce about it.) But come on. I mean, when you post a pic of your dinner on IG (GAG! BTW, nobody wants to see that) and then you say, “Just eating my ORGANIC rice and veggie and no fat, artificial anything nonsense humina humina, did I mention it’s ORGANIC?”
Well, real ladies of the world, I’m here to tell you something. I drink DIET Pepsi. That’s right. DIET. With the evil, terrible, no good aspartame. It gives rats cancer if they eat 5 pounds of it a day. And I think it’s fucking delicious. And sometimes, oh yes, I’m saying it, sometimes I drink TWO diet pepsis in one day. And maybe some day I’ll get the aspartame cancer and regret writing this. But for those other mothers out there who celebrate small victories (like being able to shower today) with a little bit of diet cola, I say, with gusto, you are not alone!
Get this. Sometimes, I take my kids to McDonald’s. Not a lot, but occasionally, it happens. And they fucking love it. And they really only want the 49 cent toy, but they eat the chicken nuggets and the cow lard fried potatoes. And they fucking love it. Because some days, I have to do things. Like leave my house and go places. And some days I don’t have time to pack a bento box of healthy snacks and my kids are crying in the car about how hungry they are and they don’t care about pink slime and they just want a god damn chicken nugget and some chocolate milk with corn syrup in it. It happens.
Yes, I make healthy dinners. And yes, sometimes I can get my kids to eat them. But sometimes I can’t and sometimes I take the easy way out. And sometimes peoples’ condescending bull shit about what a terrible mother I am if I let my kid eat Lucky Charms for breakfast gets on my nerves. (They also watch tv and play video games.)
Look, I realize this annoyance is probably my own issue. Ok, it is. Some days I wish I could do better and be a better mom. But most days, I’m pretty damn good at it. So if sometimes I have to make a rotten choice to make one day a little easier, it doesn’t make me a bad mom. Or a bad person. So my point is that I wanted you to know that if you do that too, you’re not alone. Or a bad mom. Or a bad person. Just a little public service announcement from me to you. The end.