I hate being in trouble, dealing with trouble, or sorting out kids in trouble. But, alas, as is inevitably the case, my trouble-lovin' is catching up with me.
I've just been roundly scolded, by one of my kids, for something I wrote**. Something racy, outrageous, salacious, tasteless, and highly unseemly for a person in my position (which is a person who's squeezed an even handful of individuals out of this now flabby vagina--too much information, right? Probably. If you can erase that image from your mind, you undoubtedly should.)
But in my defence, what I wrote wasn't even my line! I stole it from my Mom*. It was something I heard regularly growing up, along with, Ahhhh, go play in the traffic; the ever popular, You little twat!; and the never to be forgotten family classic, Be quiet or I'll drop kick you in the crotch!
Yet, my line or not, I've been held accountable for my glib fingers and taken firmly to task.
I am, without reservation, always sorry and occasionally devastated when I hurt someone's (anyone's) feelings. I don't ever want to intentionally cause another person pain (unless they're willing, of course!), yet I find myself back here blogging and walking that razor's edge between saying too much and saying waaayyyyyy too much.What can I say? Simply this: I am, alas and alack, an unreformed trouble-making reprobate.
Not an easy mom to have certainly, but, well, at least I'm never boring!
* The offending sentence, makes an appearance courtesy of K.J. (my mom).
** Said offending sentence can be viewed on my twitter account at undonemom
Humanity and Womanity would do well to dispense with the pernicious myth of "sacred motherhood". Moms deserve a return to "personhood". Moms just want to have fun, to be accepted as human and flawed. Certainly not "sacred", with bad pay, shitty hours and a lifetime contract.
ReplyDeleteThe flaw is the basis of love.
It is pointless to love something that is "perfect" or "without blemish". The very nature of perfection is that it is without need. What is perfect needs nothing. What is perfect does not require or yearn after love. What is perfect had better take care of business or declare itself a fraud--all others pay cash.
Moms must allow themselve to graduate from "sacred" and into "foolish" so that they too can feel the warmth of xeno-perfection give its unconditional, gooey, weird shaped love.
Motherhood is foolish as Life is foolish. Let the Unknowable God worry about being sacred, appropriate, and good. Let God do the loving. God loves fools the most.
I must add, for the official akasha, that among fools, I alone apprehend the mystery of haute-couture. This season, it's all about prints. Prints and funny little hats that you have to glue onto yer noggin.
Da WWWiz