You guys know I’m a dick, right? I am. Mainly due to my inability to think before I act or speak. Don’t get me wrong, a lot of the time it’s in my favor because I’m hilarious. No really, I am. And modest. And pretty. A lot of people have told me they appreciate my “frank” nature. But, this has a downside. I am a mom. I have a little girl. The best little girl in the world. You can’t be like that around a little kid. For one, I don’t want her swearing all the time. Ok, honestly I don’t care if she swears. But, I need to teach her how to be out in the world. Give her some tools for survival, make sure she’s not banned from school or birthday parties. So, I tell her I have bad, bad mommy words and I’m really terrible for using them. Also, I pay her a quarter when I swear. It’s working out pretty well. I’m swearing less, and she’s loaded. Anyhow, I digress. Secondly, sometimes I get impatient or frustrated and I say something to her I really, really regret.
Take yesterday for example, I had to pick her up early from school, drive like a maniac to her ballet rehearsal three towns over. Note – for the life of me I can’t figure out why they are having this recital three towns away from where the classes are but, oh well. She was excited, she was perfect. We had her dress. We had her shoes – which by the way I had to locate an hour before I picked her up, they were in my dirty laundry of course. She had a snack. Good to go. Then we go in. It’s a very show biz mom situation. I was the only mom who hadn’t done this before. You guys should know, I get really really tense around the cool moms. Ok, I know that I am actually the coolest mom, but the moms that have their shit together. Because I clearly do not. They have their kids to ballet on time, with perfect hair, and little ballet bags and water bottles and their shoes every week. They sit there in a little tiny room that smells like armpits and wait for their kids to finish dancing for an hour. I do not. I get my kid there on time. She usually has her shit sort of together. Her hair is never perfect, it is usually brushed, but I drop her off and leave. I’m not sitting there. So anyway. Yesterday. We get to the place, all the moms are getting their kids dressed in the theater area, ok fine. Done. Have all the accessories needed, done. Crap, no hair elastic. No hair brush. Have to ask a mom for an elastic. Ok, got it. Then I’m trying to fashion kid’s hair into a not shitty looking ponytail. This is hard to do without a brush. It’s also hard for me to do at all. Kid’s hair is exactly like Anna Wintour’s. She was squirming and flailing. Ponytail was horrible. Hair flying all around, those terrible glumpy things on the top. And then this happened:
Kid: I want to go play with my friend.
Me: Stop moving, I’m trying to fix your hair.
Kid: I want to go play with my frieennnndddsssssss.
Me: Please, just stop. I’m almost done.
Kid: MOOOOOOMMMMM I want to go play with my FRIIIEEENNNNDDDSSSS!
Me: Fine. Have stupid hair. I don’t care.
At which point, another mom comes over and says, “Oh, she will not. Don’t say that. I’ll do it.” And whips my kid’s hair into this crazy high bun by brushing it with vigor that would have caused tears, stomping, and struggling in my house. It should be known that this mom is also a hairdresser, but still.
Kid’s hair was better. I mean it can’t all go in a bun, but better than I could do. She ran off to play. Meanwhile I felt like the biggest asshole for the rest of the day. I was that mom. The mom who said a shitty thing to her kid and some other mom was all trying to fix it. That’s how I feel anyway. I actually lost sleep over this. I shouldn’t tell my kid she has stupid hair. That’s not a nice thing to do. She is probably going to need hair therapy. I should not become impatient so quickly or in front of other people. Also, now I have a lot more “awesome these moms think I’m an even bigger dick than before.” and “I’m a terrible mother and have no business being one” feelings. Kid? She doesn’t care at all. I apologized profusely.
Me: I’m sorry I said your hair was going to look stupid.
Kid: What are you talking about? Did you see me dance?
Me: Yes. You’re the best dancer ever.
Oh, also – yesterday I mixed up Neil Gaiman and Neil Patrick Harris on twitter and said @neilhimself (which is actually Neil Gaiman) has a hot boyfriend (which he does not. He has a hot girlfriend). This morning I got this: neilhimself : @mommyk8 wrong Neil, I’m afraid. You need @actuallyNPH. This caused me to die a little bit. Both because Neil-fucking Gaiman tweeted to me and because I’m an idiot.