The Baddest of a Pretty Bad Bunch

So I like to think I'm pretty bad.

I like to think I'm pretty hardcore. But a soggy, toothless smile from my 6 month old son totally melts my cold heart.

It was, as most of you know, an unplanned pregnancy. I'd previously thought I was pro-abortion. Turns out, I was mistaken. Sometimes I regret that choice. Other times not.

They say that becoming a mother teaches you patience. I say not. I'm no more patient than I was before, I've just learnt to put someone else before myself. I still have no patience for anyone else. There's none left after The Kid.

I've learnt not to sweat the small stuff. So he wants to suck his dummy? So what. Parting him from it is a problem to worry about in the future. Not today. So he wants to watch TV? So what. It gives me a bit of time to go for a smoke, have a shower. I'm okay with that.

I used to be horrified at parents who pulled funny faces and made funny noises at their babies in public. Now I dont care who sees me do it. Why? Because it makes him laugh. And that's worth all the public humiliation in the world.

My life hasn't turned out exactly the way I planned. Most of the time, I'm oaky with that. While all my friends get up in the morning and get dressed for a day in court, I get up and stay in my pjyamas. I get dressed in the afternoon, before The Boyfriend gets home. They have briefcases and business suits, I have nappy bags and playsuits. Their work day ends when they leave the office, mine begins when I put The Kid to bed, and I head upstairs to hit the textbooks and law reports.

I work on my thesis while The Kid plays at my feet. I cook dinner while reading law journal articles and playing with The Kid. I can type out notes while giving The Kid a bottle. I can change a nappy while he's on my lap. I dont mind when he vomits on my papers or chews them. My life is my baby. My friends' lives and babies are their jobs. My baby is my life, and my job.

I used to think being a stay at home mother was a cop-out.A way of getting out of working. I now know that it's the hardest work there possibly is. And there's no pay, and little recognition. One day in an entire 365day year is nowhere near enough to acknowledge what we do.

I've learnt that being a 'bad mommy' doesn't mean you dont care. Or that you're really a bad person. Sometimes it's what your kid needs. Letting them drink the bathwater, eat grass and suck the carpet is not the end of the world.

In fact, it's only the beginning. And while my kid is learning how to be a kid,

I'm learning how to be a mommy.

Albeit a bad one...

Deadline Extension

Since all you bad mothers, myself included, have failed to pull finger and enter the competition, the deadline has been moved to the last day of the month.

I know you're all waiting for other people to post examples so you can get some inspiration.

SO I'll be posting mine shortly.

And dont forget to read Angel's below.

Pull yourselves together.

Do you need more incentive?

And the Honour of Best Bad Mommy for 2008 goes to…

~~you can hear a mouse fart as a hush settles over the millions of watchers~~
~~the camera zooms in on the presenters dazzling smile~~

…can I have the envelope please…?

~~dramatic drum rolls in the background as Matt opens the envelope, smiling~~

…no surprise here ladies and gentlebloggers- the award goes to Angel, for “Raising Damien”!!!

~~naturally the crowd goes insane with applause and whistles~~
~~flowers are thrown and the paparazzi go bananas and balloons drop from the ceiling as I walk up the aisle~~
~~looking exquisite of course in a shimmering amethyst Versace gown, diamonds at my throat, fingers, ears, in my hair…~~

And then my boss asks me a question, boorishly ripping me from my own personal unreality.
Damn and blast.

Ahem. Okay, so I have my own little daydreams- admit it- we all do! You know the ones right?
Where my darling Damien is an “A” student and all round sports-kid and has an almost too long list of bestest best friends and gets invited to all the parties and then graduates summa cum laude from a prestigious varsity and make pots of money and the cover of “Time” magazine and writes a bestseller about his spectacular childhood.
Yes those ones.
I have them… still… though mostly now the daydreams are few and far between as I face the actuality of my 17 year old son’s abilities and issues whilst we make realistic plans. And I must admit that I still hope that by some miracle Damien will go to varsity and graduate and live comfortably and happily...
So what makes me a Bad Mommy I hear you ask? What makes me deserving of the “title” and the bloggy bling badge that’s up for grabs?
I’ll enlighten you shall I.

My darling Damien is invited back to friends houses over and over again, and nine times out of ten I get exemplary feedback when he’s been somewhere. The other time is “normal” hi-jinx that he is quickly forgiven for. He remembers his manners and saves all his worst for me.
Our shrink told me- officially- that I have NOT screwed him up entirely, despite my hard put upon child not being allowed to drink alcohol, drive, smoke cigarettes or have sex until he is legally allowed to.
If I pick him up and have to park over the road from the school or wherever, Damien gets ragged on good naturedly by his friends because he crosses the road at a zebra crossing- even if he has to walk a little out of his way to get to the crossing in order to get to my car.
He will hug me spontaneously, out of his own, for no apparent reason.
The principals and teachers of every school he has ever attended have all been issued with my cellphone number and email addresses so that I can be immediately contacted should they need to do so... and I am instantly recognised by all the staff! It drives Damien bananas when I am so uncool as to join the PTA and attend school meetings and parent teacher nights.
My darling Damien will put a highly sought over PS2 game or DVD back on the shelf if he turns it over and the age restriction is higher than he is allowed. He’ll pull a face- but he’ll put it back.
Damien loves to read. Years of bedtime stories and dragging him off to the library have paid off! Asterix and Obelix, Garfield, Harry Potter, magazines, Goosebumps, Terry Pratchett… and more recently Steven King.
He says he loves me.
My darling Damien is a medicated ADHDer. I was in denial for a long time- to his detriment- but he’s medicated and private schooled and treated and therapy’d now and I spare no expense when it comes to his treatment no matter what flak I get for it from those who hear me speak about his ADHD.
My darling Damien is always seeing things he knows others will like and it makes me all pink- fluffy-heart-like inside when he says things like “Sister B would love that!” “Sister C would love one of those...” “da Bruvva has always wanted that!” “Granny needs one of these.” “Nephew M likes those.”
My darling Damien knows me so well… if his granny darling takes him shopping for my birthday or Christmas or something he knows exactly what he wants to get and he knows exactly what I like.
And no I am not delusional- I know a lot of what he does is only because I am watching- I am pointedly not including his experimentation and bad habits in my list of “achievements” here, okay?

Now vote for me.

Happy [Bad] Mothers' Day!

On account of how it's a day for us, I hope you all got spoiled. Hope your rotten, ungrateful snot-nosed children remembered and made you feel special.

I thought it would be time we all did some homework again. But something different. Something a little more exciting. Something with a promise of reward, at the end of the day. So, I propose a

'Baddest Mommy of Them All' competition.

How it works:

1. Write a post describing why you think you are the baddest of them all.

2. We will then hold a poll. Once everyone has submitted their entry-posts. The deadline is Friday the 16th of May.

3. Readers can vote, based on each contributors' post, at the end of the week as to whom they think is the baddest of them all. So email all your friends and solicit votes on your own blog.

4. The results will be revealed.

5. The winner will get a custom-made 'Baddest Mommy on The Blog' badge for their personal blog, and will have a permanent custom-made pretty button-badge linked to their blog, displayed on The Bad Mommy Blog.

Rules:

1. You cannot vote for yourself, but you must nominate yourself.

2. You dont have to be a Bad Mommy Blog contributor to participate, so you can post an entry on your blog, and then email me at cheapthrills [at] webmail [dot] co [dot] za. Your entry will be posted as a guest blogpost on this blog, and you will be added to the poll so readers can vote for you. If a non-Bad-Mommy-Blog-contributor wins, she will be invited to be a permanent contributor to the blog.

3. There are no limits to badness! Anything goes...

So, go forth, and be BAD!