Why I Am A Bad Mother

I don't want to do a fucking lemon stand and I'm not going to do a yard sale just so my kid can raise money either. I don't have the patience to braid anyone's hair. I don't even brush my own. If I make cookies I AM going to make them. I'm not going to make them with anyone else. I don't know how to do that. When prom time comes around I'll probably send her in a vintage Christian Lacroix dress that makes her stand out as an odd ball from everyone else wearing all those cheap crap ugly polyester-satin dresses. I won't be able to stomach it otherwise. I let her listen to Lady Gaga and I make her listen to Prince. She manipulates me a little bit and I know it and go for it anyway. I let her finish her school year a whole month before the rest of town did. I send her away to her grandparents at least twice a year. We've moved too much. She asked if she could cut all her hair off and I said, "okay." She's only 11 but the way she dresses some random dude went up and asked, "Hey girl! You got an extra smoke." She's super anti-smoking. She knows the key words to use when describing how a glass of red wine smells. She knows all the cuss words in English except the big and little C, and she knows some in French too. She just doesn't say 'em. Unless we're playing Lily Allen or Mumford & Sons in the car then she sings right along to the lyrics and sings the F-word along with them too. She's seen all of SEX AND THE CITY. Until she was 7 she used to have a drink of beer every New Year. When she turned 7 the Bush Administration convinced her that was wrong. I embarrass her some of the time. Then her friends think I'm cool and she's not embarrassed. Except none of the other moms are cool so my being cool means I'm somehow less of a mom. She wakes up before I do. I don't make her breakfast. Sometimes we eat ice cream first, before dinner. She only goes to church with her grandparents. Somehow I accidentally raised her to talk too much. When men try to come on to me by being nice to her I just walk away and let her deal with it. She's good at that. I've fixed up my bedroom closet before I've fixed up hers. I still haven't paid her lunch bill at her last elementary school. I rarely put sunscreen on her. I wasn't the one that taught her how to fart quietly. She burps loudly too. When we lived in Montreal one of her favorite people to dance with was trans. It didn't occur to her to think this was odd. I taught her whether people love each other and treat each other well is what matters when it comes to marriage and relationships. I taught her marriage might not actually be important and when you were born in relation to how long people have been together or whether it's legal probably doesn't matter either. I discouraged her from watching BRATS but let her watch both HELLO KITTY and BARBIE movies. When she's super upset and crying I let her cry. I told her she doesn't have to go to college, but some things in life might be easier if she does. I still haven't uploaded a video application to that reality show she's into. I can't decide what I think of this. When she tries to tell me she's strange I say things like, "none of us should assume any of our ideas are new or interesting." Sometimes she eats cookies for breakfast. She still doesn't know how to bake cookies. She does know how to cook four different kinds of eggs. Other people taught her this. She's worked with camels a bit. I make her clean up her own pets' poop. Every time she takes out her hamster I tell her to be careful with him, even though she's taken him out more than I have. All of these things are okay with me.