Some women CAN have it all
So Cherie Blair, wife of the former British Prime Minister, is telling women of the UK that "Yummy mummies" who give up work and "put all their effort into their children" are making a "dangerous" mistake.
At the same time, Anne-Marie Slaughter, the first female Director of Policy and Planning in the US State Department who left her high powered government job to spend more time with her two boys, is waxing poetic about "Why Women Still Can't Have It All."
And all of this is happening right on the heels of that ridiculous TIME Magazine cover last month asking us all if we are "Mom Enough" to breast-feed our children until they are old enough to ask for a double shot of espresso with that frothed milk.
And all I have to say about this latest siege in the omnipresent Mommy Wars is: really?
Bitches, please. Can't we all just get along? Every woman I know chooses what's best for her unique situation. There is no one right way to do this crazy thing called Life. In other words, you say tomato, I say vagina. Live and let live, ladies!
And what the hell are you talking about, Anne-Marie? I totally have it all.
For starters, I'm hot. In fact, in some cultures where a woman's beauty is measured by the length of her breast or the fullness of her beard, I'm practically a deity.
I also have 9 toenails. That's 9 out of 10, or 90%. If I was in school, that would be an "A." In other words, WINNING! Duh.
I have a supportive husband and a good marriage. Well, as good as a marriage can be given my corpse-like libido and flatulence issue.
I have two beautiful kids, one of each....(one good, one bad). Oh wait, I have three kids. I keep forgetting about that third one. He just showed up one day. I probably shouldn't have fed him, but I did and now he won't leave. See? I'm charitable too.
I have a rescued dog who loves me like his life depended on it, probably because his life does depend on it. And I have a gorgeous cat who lets me touch her once in a while and who hardly ever pisses in my laundry basket of clean clothes. As far as cats go? We're talking superstar, people.
I also have a burgeoning career as a blogger. Sure, there are children in Kathie Lee Gifford's sweatshops who make more money per hour than I do, but in terms of influence? I mean, hello! Has Anne-Marie Slaughter ever been asked to autograph a woman's boob at a blog conference? I'm guessing NO.
I have a beautiful home. Particularly if you believe all those cheesy hand painted wooden signs on Pinterest that say things like "Pardon the mess, we're making memories!" And by "mess," of course I mean fossilized boy-urine in the grooves of my wainscoting and by "memories," the tears shed from an over-enthusiastic round of "Smell My Finger" that ends in domestic violence.
I'm also rich. Maybe not in cash or things I can hawk on Pawn Stars, but I'm rich in things like friends. Okay fine, maybe not real-life friends, but I have people in my virtual life who tag me in funny pictures on Facebook, like all the time, okay? That counts for something, I'm certain of it.
And I'm a contributing member of my community. (We're still talking about Facebook right? Because my eCards and ERMAGHERD meme comments are fucking awesome.)
I could go on and on, but I don't like to brag.
So ladies, let's try to keep the Mommy Wars at bay and stop judging each other. Do what's right for you and your family and tell everyone else to suck it. The end.