Archive | September, 2012

A Knife Fight Between Older and Younger Workers, Who Wins?!

27 Sep

I don’t often have self-esteem issues.  Pffft, who am I kidding, my whole life has been riddled with deep-seeded self-esteem-Daddy issues but you don’t need to know that.  *ahem*  I just need to convey that I’m fabulous, right?!  People don’t want to hear the bad stuff, right?  Keep it light, happy, upbeat!  The only time when they want to hear your troubles is so they can feel superior to you, which won’t bring you closer to being their friend,  but you’ll be a good punchline!  After all that is why we watch “Here Comes Honey Boo Boo” isn’t it?

I digress.  I’ve never been one to worry about age… ever.  I love my age and who I am.  But lately in applying for jobs (a salaried job is a necessary accompaniment to freelance work) and new freelance opportunities, I am starting to have this sinking feeling that age is a factor.  Maybe not so much that I’m old and useless and unhip, but more of I have so much experience in a wide variety of things, that they feel that “this broad is overqualified and just going to up and leave when a real career opportunity arises”.  No no, I beg to differ, I can be just as young and useless as a 25 year old kid that comes in all hung over or argues with their boyfriend all day on the phone.  I can do either or if you like!  Oh, that wasn’t a dig at the youngsters, it just means that at every age there are pros and cons.

I’m chronologically older.

Cons –  I have more experience, odds are you’ll have to pay me more.  I have kids that will undoubtedly be sick or have a game I need to attend.  I won’t take your bullshit, I will question you.  I will be motivated to get promoted.

Pros – I have my shit together.  I have experience. I’m not a drama queen.   I can work independently, don’t need much training or hand holding.  I’m motivated.  When problems arise, chances are I’ve dealt with it in the past and know how to deal with it now.  I am mature, if a problem  arises, I’ll deal with it head on in a professional manner rather than bitch about it on Facebook. (eh I may do that in a covert way so damage will be done)   I’m smart.  Really smart.  I am super creative.  I will try to brighten your day with a laugh.  I am woman, hear me roar.

Younger and/or inexperienced folk.

Cons – No or little experience.  Sometimes immature and haven’t figured out how to be professional yet.  Have not been around the block and seen how office politics works yet.  May be distracted by social life or trying to get laid.  May not be aware yet that being unreliable/late/lazy will get your ass canned.  Young girls will want maternity leave at some point.  May possibly wear clubbing clothes and stripper heels to work.

Pros – May possibly wear clubbing clothes and stripper heels to work.  You can get away with paying them lower wages.  They don’t often ask for benefits like health care since Mom and Dad still cover that, or they just don’t care because they think they are invincible. They may bring fresh ideas.  They might have fresh lessons in their head from college.   They have interesting stories and entertaining drama from their social life.  (well that can be a con because I find most of that tedious and annoying)

So there you have it.  That was in no way meant to say either age group is better.  It just means don’t discount me because I’m older.  I’m only 47 for Christ’s sake!  To quote my favorite Monty Python movie, “I’m not dead yet!”.   I’m not a curmudgeon, I’m more hip than you.  So come at me, bro!  Ermagard, I know all the latest memes.   I’ve seen trends, been around long enough to see what works and what will fall flat on its face.  I have a mature, professional manner and if I have a problem, I’ll discuss it rationally.  I have nice cleavage.  And you never know, I may have more interesting stories to tell at the water cooler.  Little do you know, I keep a spare pair of panties in my purse. *wink wink*  (ok so they are for possible incontinence problems and not sexy adventures but no one needs to know that)

When hiring, think outside the box and … HIRE MADGE!

Also, you’ll see I’ve installed a PayPal donation button at the top of the sidebar.  If you invest in the book I am currently writing, “When Life Gives You Lemons… At Least You Won’t Get Scurvy!”, I’ll be sure to give a great big thank you on the Acknowledgements page in the book.  Thanks!  Love you kids!


A Sightly Interesting Announcement From Madge…

20 Sep

Thanks for coming over to see what all the fuss is about!  So, I have a little announcement…

After much prodding from others, and a need to add something legitimate to my writing resume, I am… writing a book.

Yes, After writing blogs for 7 years, I decided to do something constructive (one would think) with my stories.  So I have a book that’s in the editing stages and I hope to have it out in time to make a great holiday gift!  I figure if Snooki can write a book, so can I!

The book is a collection of re-worked blog posts with some additional content and summary lessons.  The content mostly focuses on overcoming adversity in regard to relationships, finances, children, and career, all with a big dose of humor.    And the working title is…

“When Life Gives You Lemons… At Least You Won’t Get Scurvy!”


In recent years I’ve been dragged kicking and screaming over to the bright side.  I’ve had no choice but to stare that bright side in the face and decide to make the best of whatever life brings.  However, for years I did find strange comfort in soaking in the hot tub of the dark dreary side of life, you know the one that drunk spring break couples got nasty in?  (that was a metaphor kids, I didn’t really hang out in a skanky hot tub)  It was easier (so I thought) to expect the worst and be angry at the world.  I honestly don’t know how some of you folks put up with me.  Obviously some didn’t, if you take a look at my dating resume.  Oy.

I don’t claim to be all self-righteous and pretend “Madge Knows Best”.  What I do know is I made some mistakes along the way, as well as some good decisions too.  I hope others can gain some insight from the lessons I’ve learned because things always seem a little more manageable when you know someone else has been through it and survived.  I also give helpful hints on things like which douchecopters to stay away from and how to prevent your kids from becoming A-holes, like those kids down the street.

I’ll keep you all updated.  Any questions, feel free to ask!


Am I Supposed to Look Poor? Income Levels Should Have Uniforms.

19 Sep

*Another one of my greatest hits, transferring over, I think Mitt Romney should read this*

I saw a status on Facebook the other day that said something to the effect, “If you’re on welfare, how can you  afford a smartphone?”.  Which made me think of a whole image problem I’ve had for a while.The question is… if you’re, shall we say… uh underprivileged, or uh living below the poverty line, or dare I say it “poor”… oh hell, if you’re broke-ass broke… are you obliged to look the part?

Are you being a poser if you try to look not poor when you’re poor?  Or to think of it another way, if you are surviving with government assistance are you supposed to look the part?  And what is the part?  Dirty ratty clothes, a pair of brokedown Toughskin jeans, a pair of warn out generic K-Mart sneakers, messy hair, dirty finger nails?  When you go to the Department of Social Services do you demand to see the “poor and huddled masses”?  “Excuse me Miss, I’m here to inspect your dreggs of society to make sure they are poor and huddled.”

Here’s why I bring this up.  I know I’m like a broken record, but there was a time I was broke.  Right now, I’m mid range broke, but there was a time I was lowest of the low broke.  Long story short, ex-husband split and stopped paying support, I lost my job, unemployment got held up for like 6 weeks, no savings, got evicted, yada yada.  I had absolutely no income for 6 or 8 weeks with 3 kids.  I entered hot mess land.   I was cleaning friends toilets and writing real estate appraisal reports and ad copy for $10 or $20 here and there (I kid you not) for money to eat, while I looked for a full time gig.  So, I went to social services, and that of course took a few weeks to get through the red tape, I think about 6 or 8 weeks later foodstamps and heat assistance kicked in.

My background, grew up in a family with 2 parents who were Penn State grads, my Dad is a WWII veteran, both parents were white collar, we had belonged to a country club at one time, we travelled, eventually my parents owned a second home in AZ, all 6 of us kids went to college, some advance degrees, I went to college in Maine for 4 years.  Bottom line, basically I come from good stock and I’m educated, I ain’t no slouch.  Soooo…

When I had several trips to the DSS, I was thinking “how should I look?”.  Should I look like a Wal-Mart shoper?  A dumpster diver? I remember judging people in the past and thinking, “you’re in the welfare office, why are you wearing Baby Phat with your hair and nails all done talking on your smartphone?”.  We’ve all done it.  Shut it!  No!  You know you have.  I was still trying to work and going on interviews so I would be dressed and ready for work, coiffed hair and makeup.  But I felt like I should go in there with no make up, hair in ponytail, sweatpants, kids in just a diaper, smoking and yelling at my kids about kicking their asses.

My Catholic guilt is actually palable, isn’t it?  You can see the visions of self flagellation rising from my head, can’t you?

My ex in-laws used to judge me all the time because I presented myself well, they thought I was taking the mountain of money that their son was giving me for child support and spending it all on myself.  HA!  My kids even defended me, they know I never spend anything on myself.  They have to prod me to do it.  I have gone a year at a time without buying a stitch of clothing for myself, only to be forced to because I wore out the crotch in my only good pair of pants or something.  I am just frugal and have enough dignity to try and keep myself presentable.  My in-laws refused to believe that even though I looked fabulous, I was only wearing a 5 year old $79 coat from JC Penney, a $10 3 year old Calvin Klein sweater from Marshall’s, a $15 6 year old tweed skirt from Marshall’s, 5 year old $19 BCBG shoes from Marshall’s.  And I simply dried and straightened my own hair, tastefully put on makeup, and painted my own nails with a 2 year old bottle of OPI nail polish, and wore the only necklace and earrings I owned which were stylish pearls given to me by their son 15 years earlier.  Is that so wrong?

By being properly dressed or wearing something with a label and having my nails done and checking my email on my smartphone that was a free upgrade at contract renewal time and is the only phone I have now, no home phone… I’m sure I have been labeled by strangers as a welfare fraud case a few times.

Some people think you should be “real” and look the part of whatever your income is.  I felt bad for making myself look like a million bucks when I only had 59 cents to my name.  It reminded me of that old Carol Burnett skit when she plays Scarlett O’Hara and her house had burnt down but she comes to the door in a dress made from the curtains with the rod still in it.  That’s me… sans rod.  I guess I’m more like the movie.  But I am kind of quirky, I would wear the rod.  OK, nevermind.

I do have to admit that I feel really guilty when I go into Wegmans wearing fabulous heels and a dress, hair and nails done and I pay with foodstamps.  But again, did my own hair and nails, clothes and shoes were either from Target or Marshall’s and a few years old.

I won’t be on foodstamps forever.  I do work.  A lot.  But unfortunately for having 3 kids, my household size to income ratio is still below the poverty level.  And I won’t be as brazen as Old Dirty Bastard of the Wu Tang Clan and go on MTV and ride in a limo to get my welfare check.  As I get higher paying and more frequent writing jobs, I’ll be done with government assistance, but for now I need it.  Now, had my ex paid his child support, I wouldn’t need assistance.  I didn’t sign up to be a single parent, so I must keep plugging along to get to a level wear I can provide as if I were 2 parents.

So, I just ask that the next time you see someone coming out of DSS or paying with foodstamps at the store and they are well groomed and dressed properly… don’t be so quick to judge.  We all need help from time to time.  Don’t be hatin’…

This Wasn’t the “Meeting in the Ladies Room” Klymaxx Envisioned…

17 Sep

 *Another blog re-run transferred over, enjoy*


Well, I survived the last couple of weeks with my 2 daughter’s surgeries and my son’s high school graduation.  Piece of cake.  Well, actually I think it’s like child birth, there is some magic chemical in our bodies that makes us forget what hell we went through.

I got some interesting stories out of it, though.  One in particular that happened to me sticks out though as a foreshadowing of my future… that I’ll try to avoid.

My son went to an all boys Catholic prep school.  So as part of any good Catholic high school graduation, they have a baccalaureate mass earlier in the day before graduation.  My son had to get there early because he was singing at the mass with the school choir… and so we could get a seat, you know with us Catholics and our large families, seating was limited.

So, yea the mass… We had plenty of time to mill about and at one point my youngest daughter and I decide to go to the ladies room.  (oh great now I have Klymaxx’s “Meeting in the Ladies Room” stuck in my head)  This particular ladies room had a long narrow, oh what would you call it, ya’ know “lounge” with a sink and vanity and long counter for doing prissy lady things.  I lovingly refer to it as the “pre-toilet” room.  Then there is a one seater toilet room beyond this room.  My daughter and I are in line behind one other woman.  This “lounge” room is long and narrow, so you all have to stand in line for the loo up against the wall like a police line-up.

The toilet room door opens and a cheery older woman comes out who is about in her 70s.  The woman ahead of us goes in the toilet room.  Older woman is chatting away “Oh sorry to hold everyone up!”.  This woman was probably one of the boy’s Grandmas.  She was wearing one of those “skirt suits” that old ladies wear with a skirt, an elaborately embroidered long jacket and rayon shell underneath, with a nice pair of sensible dress shoes and lots of diamond jewelry.  As she’s walking out she’s tugging at her skirt and chatting away.  I chatted back to be friendly as I always do.  My kids actually said they like that I can make friendly conversation with anyone from a cashier to a nasty DMV clerk.  Which is surprising because my parents did it when I was a kid and it used to embarrass the crap out of me.  “Jesus Mary and Joseph, Mom!  Do you have to talk to everyone, can’t we just go?”

Right, so anyway, old lady comes out tugging and chatting, and then stops at the end of the counter space and is still chatting at me.  Due to the specs of the room, there was nowhere to look but directly at her.  She starts telling us that she got out quickly so as to let us all get in there and thought she would just adjust herself out in this particular area.  Well thanks for explaining lady, I thought perhaps you had crazed weazels up your skirt or something.  She chats more (for the life of me I can’t remember the subject, maybe the weather, the school, I don’t know) and she starts tugging at the ankles of her hose.  Then she moves up to tug at the knees.  Then the thighs.  Then she pulls up her skirt to her high thigh and goes up under her skirt and is pulling up there and doing the “adjusting the pantyhose dance” a bit.  I thought that was a little ummmm.. unlady-like, but ignored it.

But then as she is still happily chatting away to me, she hikes her skirt up over her waist, which turns it inside out and now she can pull it up to her armpits and hold it there by closing her arms.  With her skirt all up in her armpits, she grabs the waistband of her pantyhose and starts pulling them up to her bossoms (as old ladies say) as she starts doing deep knee bends to scooch them up.  Ladies, we all know we’ve done this, but watching someone’s Grandma do it in a public restroom is like walking in on your parents having sex, kinda’ creepy.  Mind you she’s still chatting away while doing the deep knee bends and yanking her hose over her gigantic dark colored granny (literally) panties.  I should win an award, I kept a straight face the whole time.  My 13 year old daughter made believe she was fixing her sandles so her eyes didn’t burn from the spectacle.

Grandma soon finishes up and wishes us well and exits.  My daughter and I immediately turned to each other with the wide-eyed “what the hell was that?!” look and burst out laughing.  After we get done in the bathroom and are walking back into the church, my daughter says “Oh Mom, that’s so you in 25 years”.  And every time I told that story to my other 2 kids or my “Manfriend”, they all responded with that same sentence!  Hey!  I know I’m a little quirky, and don’t care what people think, and just make a joke out of everything but I’d like to think I had enough decorum not to yank my skirt over my head in a public restroom while I do calisthenics to adjust the crotch of my pantyhose!  Well, as I turn 47 this Monday (6/11), and my girls have had to stop me from walking into Wegmans with a giant ass-sweat stain on my khaki shorts on a scorching day… I guess only time will tell.

Have you ever had any odd public bathroom encounters?  Do leave a comment and tell…

Networking: When Awkward People Attack!

13 Sep

Yesterday I went to a networking event.  I really have to be in the right mood to attend those things.  Sometimes I feel sociable, other times not so much.  I used to feel sociable all the time but in the last couple of years I feel like just sitting in the corner with my dirty martini and waving off anyone who dare try approach me.

Networking events, parties, hanging in a bar, it’s all sort of the same thing.  Some people are natural socializers, others are not.  I’m great with other socializers but over the years I’ve gotten increasingly more irritated with the socially awkward folk.  You know the kind… they don’t say much but stand there and laugh nervously, yet they still follow you around, staring at you with nothing to say .  Or the folks that, trying to get them to elaborate is like trying to get Kim Kardashian to wear less eyeshadow.  They only give you one word answers and then just kind of stand there with a half grin on their face.

I’m usually quite awesome at reading body language and social cues.  If someone starts looking around, or seems bored talking to me, I walk away (ya’ know, politely of course).  Hey, I can’t always be the most captivating person in the room, I let others have a chance.  I’m a giver like that.   I can also tell if I have offended someone, I change the subject.  I can’t help it if everyone doesn’t respond well to my stories of expressing my dog’s anal glands. (just kidding, I don’t have a dog anymore, nor would I discuss that with strangers).   Let’s face it, I am the picture of Emily Post when it comes to party etiquette.  Too bad not everyone else is.

Other social types I can’t stand:

The Close Talker – get the f*ck out of my personal space, for Christ’s sake!  And take a shot of minty Scope while you’re at it.

The Lecher – The guy who has some close talker tendencies who is staring down your blouse the entire time and is always trying to turn the subject down the naughty road. (he’s not getting anywhere near my naughty road)  Or he maybe thinks he somehow has magical bedroom eyes and is trying to put you under his spell, staring you directly in the eyes with a come hither look.  Um… that’s just creepy.

The Cling-On – This is the female version of The Lecher.  I’ve been out with guy friends and seen this happen.  Again, she has close talker tendencies and amazing posture.  Somehow her breasts always end up brushing against you.  She’s usually sloppy hammered and can’t take a hint that the guy is not interested even if she put a bag over her head and had a car waiting for her afterwards.

The Puppy Dog – The lone guest at his/her own pity party.  They start off the conversation by telling you their Mother died and they are unemployed.  Much like Debbie Downer but with the addition of following you around waiting for a crumb.  What?  What do you want me to do?!  I don’t know whether they want money or pity sex, but the approach ain’t workin’.

The Peddler – At networking events they could really give a crap what anybody else has to say, they are not there to learn about what anybody else does.  They come armed with fistfuls of business cards, copies of their book, bumperstickers, coupons, personalized colostomy bags… whatever.  They are promoting the shit out of themselves (reason for the colostomy bags).  It’s all about them, all the time, and they will try to sell whatever they can.  (Insert picture of Teresa Guidice from Real Housewives of NJ).  There is also the Social Peddler, they are not at a networking function but in a regular social setting, not trying to sell you anything, yet the conversation is completely one sided with a long winded narcissistic monologue.  Oh, wouldya’ look at the time… gotta’ go.

The Dosey Doe – I will never understand this one as long as I live.  They are actively talking to you yet they constantly keep inching to the left and behind you.  So every couple of minutes you have to reposition yourself and eventually you’ve turned around in a full circle.  I’ve tried to figure it out.  At first I thought it was to get away from me, but they still keep talking to me.  I’ve even stopped talking and turned my back and they are still talking to my back.  Maybe they feel shy deep down and are trying to avoid talking face to face.  We could move this conversation to an old fashioned priest’s confessional, shouldya’ like?  Hey if the anonymity would make you feel more comfortable…

There are many more, perhaps to be named later in more adventures.  I’m really quite exhausted from having to write about  and relive these tiresome creatures.  I need a massage, a nap, and a cocktail, not necessarily in that order.  Who are some of your least favorite types to encounter in a social space?

Which is Better, ’80s College Drunks or ’10s College Drunks?

12 Sep

*Another one of my greatest hits being transferred over from old site* 

One of my pet peeves in blogging or Facebooking or any other sort of internet posting is the person who gets stuck on one subject and beats us over the head with it.  I call it the “Kathie Lee Gifford Effect”.  I don’t know if any of you remember about 20 years ago when that Kelly show was called “Live with Regis and Kathie Lee”?  Well during that time Kathie Lee had a baby boy named Cody and the broad wouldn’t shut up about him.  Regis even started giving her sh*t about it, like making gun to his head gestures every time she mentioned his name.

Anyway, I feel as though I may be on the verge of one of those people talking about my son and his graduation from high school and venture toward college.  I’m trying not to, really I am.  But ya’ know, its kind of been the center of my life for the last couple months.  He’s my oldest, I assure you by the time the 3rd one graduates I won’t even mention it.  No just kidding, but if I take after my Mom it may be true… I was the 6th kid, there are virtually no pictures of me as a child.  lol

Well, since about this past Christmas I’ve been buying my son odds and ends for his new life at college.  For one thing, I’m broke-ass-broke, so buying things a little at a time is what I can afford.  And another thing, he loved getting all that stuff, he was ready to leave for college his junior year.  So he enjoyed getting a shower caddy and a set of towels for Christmas.  Then for his birthday in March he got a comforter and a hamper.  Hey screw you, he loved it!

Buying all those things got me to thinkin’… wow  college is different now.  I was using my college experience to figure out how I’m going to get all his stuff down to NYC, but I really don’t think there will be that much.

Ok, think of this, when I was in college 1983-1987 I packed the following items into my parent’s station wagon – a gigantic stereo with turn table, receiver, and tape deck with floor speakers that measured about 3 feet high; a 27″ black & white TV (which was considered small back then); a boombox; a Typewriter; a couple milk crates of albums; a couple cases of cassette tapes.  But now all of that fits into one device, your laptop!  OK, somebody may still want to bring a TV and cds or dvds, but they are still far more compact.


(actually I didn’t bring the TV until later years, before that I would go to a friends room, because the TV lounge on the first floor was for the socially awkward and it was always tuned to “Solid Gold”)

Then we used to bring a hotpot, really only good for Ramen noodles or a can of Spaghettios.  Which you usually had to throw away after a few uses because you started to make Spaghettios after your drunk ass came home from a fraternity party but you fell asleep while it was cooking  and the Spaghettios burnt to a crisp melded onto the pot .  Remember, drinking age was 18 back then!  And most chicks brought a hot air popcorn popper.  Now kids can take a small microwave.  I think that’s pretty much a wash, 2 smaller for 1 bigger.

Hot Pot

I took a bike to school one year, it was still chained in the exact same spot that I put it in on move-in day, at the end of the year.  It would be a pain for my son to have a bike in NY, it’s hazardous to bike there and then carrying it up 7 flights of stairs would cancel out any time saving, in my book.

Posters.  I had an extensive collection – The Smiths, Psychedelic Furs, The Clash, David Bowie, etc.  That was my baby, my pride and joy.  But I think dbag ex-husband left them behind as garbage in one of our moves.  Grrrr.  Anyway, do kids still put up the posters?   Oh yea and then my room started filling up with sorority souveniers anyway.


So what do college kids do now?  Sit around and play video games?  Watch YouTube videos?  Text people in the same room?  Hey, speaking of that, remember when we had to wait for a boy to call on that one hall phone that was meant for 20 people, but that one girl was always on it to her boyfriend back home?  Like seriously she was on it 24/7, I wonder what that phone bill looked like.  Anyway, do kids even speak to each other anymore or just text?

It’s kind of fun taking a walk down memory lane as I get the boy ready for college.  Things have changed, but a lot has not.  There will still be learning and studying, drinking, boy chasing, girl chasing, hearts breaking, friendships made for a lifetime.  I’m so excited for him.

What do you remember taking to college or doing in college that would never be done nowadays?  Do you think kids today have more or less fun then we did back in the day?

Yes I Suck But Parenting is Not a Competitive Sport

11 Sep

*Transferring over another oldie but goodie from old blogging site*

I started following an account on Twitter this week that I really like,Sh*tty Mom.   Check it out.   It’s a book coming out that I believe is written by two women, and oh how I relate to these women.  (if you want to follow me on Twitter, I’m @MadgeMadigan)

I must confess something…  I produced my first college scholarship winning child by being a crappy mom.  Also my two daughters are still in high school and middle school and are A students, and this is another result of my crappiness.

I frankly have no idea how this happened.  My son is going to NYU in an honors program in the Fall.  He’s a wonderfully down to Earth, kind, polite, good athlete, funny as hell, talented in singing and acting, and very insightful.  I have two daughters (I hate to lump them together but they are very similar, see evidence of crappy momness) who are A students, good athletes, kind, polite, funny as hell, talented in singing, acting and art, and are very insightful (when not being hormonal).

And what did I do?  Pretty much nothing.  The question should be more of what didn’t I do?  Shall I list?  Yes, let me count my apathetic ways…

– I never once “made” any sort of foodstuffs for a birthday party, or school party, or Girl Scout shindig, or end of the season soccer party, or some such other convoluted self-esteem building event for children.  I tried to avoid having to do anything all together, but if I was forced to I opted to bring the paper products, ya’ know plates, napkins, etc.

– I never bought my kids anything that cost more than $40 for a present.

– I never kept my house immaculate.  I’m usually apologizing for the mess when people come over.  I didn’t get the housekeeping gene.  I mean, it’s not like I’m a hoarder with 6 inches of animal feces and fast food wrappers on the floor.  But there’s always stuff around, backpacks, books, magazines, some dust, evidence that we are living.  After a while I become oblivious to it.  I guess I wish an unkempt house bothered me a little more but it just doesn’t.  *hangs head*

– I never thoroughly enjoyed playing with my kids outside.  Sometimes I did, but a lot of times I sat in a chair while they ran around.  I’m sad I didn’t have the energy to frolic through a meadow with them as if we were in a detergent commercial, but at least I was there.  Albeit sometimes I was texting or talking on the phone but hey, I was supervising.

– I didn’t go to every single one of my kid’s sporting events.  I almost did!  But sometimes there were three at once and it was just impossible.  Other times I couldn’t get out of work.  Other times I was just too drunk.  NO!  I’m kidding.  Just seeing if you were paying attention…

– I’ve never caught up on laundry.  Almost everyday my kids are pulling the clothes they want to wear out of the laundry basket of clean clothes I just brought up from the basement but haven’t bothered had time to fold.

So yea, I suck.  But the truth is a lot of us Moms suck.  And ya’ know what?  It’s ok.

Sure we all suck compared to June Cleaver, Donna Reed, or Carol Brady.  Hmmm, are those references too dated?  Have there even been any “perfect moms” on TV in the last 25 years?  I don’t know, wasn’t the mom on Home Improvement kind of perfect-y?  Anyway.  The point is, it’s a different world but women still have the “Super Woman” complex.  We feel we need to be all things to all people.  Let’s face it, women can be a wicked competitive lot.  And then sometimes women make stupid choices because of what they feel are the more important successes that should be noticed.

Why was I a slacker in all of those areas?  Because I was a divorced Mother of 3 children for 10 years, with an ex who I couldn’t depend on, and I had to work to support the four of us.  And any job I’ve ever had has never paid more than $36k/year.  I couldn’t afford much of anything that’s why I tried not to volunteer to bring stuff.  Crappy I know, but I wasn’t going to spend money I didn’t have just so I looked good to the other Moms.  I didn’t blow my money on expensive things for the kids just to look good either.  I did my share when we all had to pitch in, but I was always praying that we were done with soccer games before they got to my name on the snack list.  What the hell do kids need a snack for?  They won’t starve before they get home.  I played plenty of sports and I never collapsed from malnourishment in the time it took to leave the school and arrive at home.

I didn’t enjoy playing with the kids all the time because I was damn tired from working and being both parents.  I didn’t clean like a motherhucker because I was tired and I thought my time would be better spent sitting down and talking to my kids and helping them with their homework and feeding and cleaning them.

Basically I had to pick and choose how my time and money were best spent.  I would have loved to bring fabulous baked goods to all their gatherings but I resolved myself to the fact that I’d rather people know me for my awesome kids than my awesome cookies.  Don’t get me wrong, I do know women who have great kids and great cookies… and I envy them.  But I do know they might be lacking in other areas, say maybe they ignore their spouse in order to make good cookies.  Look ladies, we just can’t be all things to all people so don’t beat yourself up over it.  Do the best you can do but try to put the kids first.  It used to bother me that I couldn’t be perfect but now I freely admit that I’m… craptastic!

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