OK, i have to approach this blog post VERY carefully.
I mean with the utmost caution.
Because if my intent gets misinterpreted, i’m totally fucked.
Here’s what could happen:
1) i could get bucketed as a “mommy blogger.”
2) i could lose all 3 of my male readers.
3) I might unseat Martha Stewart as the most creative woman on the planet (with the best prison hair…oh wait, no, that goes to Lil Kim. But she can rap, so whatever).
4) I’ll never be able to mention scorpion assholes again.
I think i could deal with any of the above, especially the Martha Stewart one (mostly because i think i could take her DOWN), with exception of the first.
Not that i have any disrespect for mom bloggers. none at all. I don’t really read many of them, but i think there is a great community out there of great moms who have fabulous things about which to write.
I don’t want to be in the mommy blog circle because i am really not the kind of mom you might want to idolize. Here are a few reasons why:
1) I have my daughter serve me wine. nightly. she’s 10. sometimes i even pay her to do so (a family tradition, if you will).
2) I let her watch way more TV than the US Department of Family Surgeon General and Taxation Affairs (which, in my opinion, is a HUGE waste of taxpayer dollars) recommends. Seriously, sometimes i just let her go to town with Disney Channel for, like, ohmygod, more than an HOUR.
3) I highly encourage her never to date boys and if she wants to be a lesbian that is just fine with me. Holy crap, can you imagine what the Conservative Pro Marriage Coalition (just made that up, but sure it’s something like that) would DO? They’d have me tarred and feathered or something!
4) I gave her a, gulp, cell phone.
5) I can’t cook to save my life. Tonight, in fact, we are having Hamburger Helper (yes, it’s organic grass fed beef, i’m not a goddamn idiot, geez…).
6) When she complains, i often ask her if she’d like to head on down to Doernbecher’s Hospital and ask a cancer kid how they’re feeling, just to put her shit into perspective, such is my ability to infuse guilt into her conscience.
7) we just had this conversation:
Sav: mom, would you consider going somewhere right now?
Me, again: but tell me anyway, so that even though i am going to say no it at least appears that i am listening.
Sav: Can we go to Target? They have these really cool print out extensions.
Me: No. Would you pour me some more wine?
8. I just told my stepson that we are having “pasta with beef” tonight. I’m not telling him it’s actually Hamburger Helper.
9) i often miss my daughter’s class breakfasts, rarely know when she doesn’t have school (and am therefore caught totally desperate and unprepared), and don’t know half of the names of the kids (or parents) in her class.
I’ll stop at 9. Seems like a random enough number.
I know my daughter as if she is threaded into my skin.
And i am really dedicated, as in psychotically, to documenting, preserving, and celebrating her childhood.
I also hear approximately 50% of the people i know say, “ummm, well, i think i see more of her dad in her,” and the other 50% say, “holy shit, she looks just like you!”
Which is why we did what we did this weekend.
Wanted to pit my “young self” against her “current self” and see what happened.
The by-product of our fun little project?
it will make one hell of a great present for the grandparents. (this is where the Martha Stewart reference comes in, in case you were searching, desperately, for the connection).
However since i know all of my parents read this blog (yep, swear words and all, much to their chagrin), it’s ruined for me.
But i’d LOVE to know if you think this is an awesome idea, or simply complete crap.
It’s nothing you need to spend a ton of time on, and it’s so fun.
Sit with your child. Go through old pictures (i have to do a quick PSA here on my mother, who gave us the greatest gift a couple years ago of completed chronological photo albums of our childhood).
Find ones your kids like (mine, in this case picked out some old modeling photos – i was a poster child for Mervyn’s and JC Penney at one time), and then find ones YOU like (for me, it was my dorkiest moments), and then re-create them.
Here’s what happens:
and my all time, god bless the 80’s style favorite…(seriously, don’t get jealous at the high waisted belted jeans, buttoned collar, and white socks, it just doesn’t behoove you like it did me…)
so there you go.
Christmas for your grandparents. Dammit, should have titled this blog “Christmas for your grandparents.” Unless you are Jewish, in which case, clearly that would not apply. But since i am agnostic, i’m just gonna roll with this as an idea to make your parents swoon. or barf.
Clearly i’m not mom of the year, but i love to write.
And 31 years separates (wait… unites!) every one of these photos.
So thank you for reading, if you’ve made it this far. I don’t know why anyone would have, but in my own opinion, when your child is into dressing up as you when you were young, a picture is, truly, worth a thousand words.
Shit, does this make any sense at all?
Peace (as Lil Kim may have, or may never have, said),
PS… here are some either blooper or “before being edited” photos… took about 2o0 pics to get the above 6!