Basically I am dressing her like she is a college guy as she is walking around like a little modern day George Jefferson.

The past few days would not be good for my mother of the year standing with Rachel.  Basically I am dressing her like she is a college guy as she is walking around like a little modern day George Jefferson.

First--I need to get Rachel some new leggings.  After awhile these little holes just develop in the knees and I really don't want to send her to school with holey pants.  Sometimes Rachel insists on wearing the pants if I don't catch the hole before she does.  She likes to go into school with a Band-Aid on the hole like her pants are wounded.  The problem is that she doesn't have 5 pairs of pants/leggings without holes so I should do a load of wash during the week.  But the past week was busy and I didn't get to it.  By Friday, I was going through the dirty laundry to find a pair of leggings sans holes, doing the sniff test.  Just like some college guy--smells just fine, must still be clean.  (Yes, I am making a generalization about college guys.)   While they could have smelled okay to me they were technically dirty, but at least didn't have holes in them.  Rachel had no idea but I knew.  I tried to reassure myself as I left her at school that her pants didn't smell too stinky.  (Note to self, "pick up leggings")

If dressing your child in dirty clothes was bad enough, then there is this.  When Rachel and I leave the house in the morning, she likes to listen to Thriftshop by Macklemore.  I don't know why, she just loves this song.  At first it was okay, when she just repeated "I gon' pop some tags" over and over.  But now it's not okay.  Even with the clean version, she has seemed to have picked up on the use of the word "honky".  When she said it, I almost swerved off the road.  I told her that this word wasn't okay and then tried to sell another song to listen too.  As soon as I say this..."Honky, honky, honky" is all she wants to say reminiscent of a good old Norman Lear sitcom.  While she says that she won't say it in school, I just see a miniature version of George Jefferson walking into younger pre-school.  All day at work, I kept imaging Rachel screaming the word honky in her preschool class and getting a call.  Or worse, the school mentioning the word choice to our sitter who was picking her up that night, and then her having to tell me later.  Bad, JCW, just bad--why did you let her listen to that song?  It is out of the rotation and back to Wheels on the Bus...no matter how much songs like this push me closer to the edge in the morning.  God, this is really bad...and I am totally going to blame Ching.

I would like to think that I will have my act together as a mother when both Laurel and Rachel are both more self sufficient....

She probably has all organic vegan menu flown in with a Beverly Hills blessing to always have perky boobs on the side.

"You know Laurel, that's not what Katy Perry would do."

Holy Shit--it worked!

Lately, Laurel has been obsessed with Katy Perry.  She has been watching all of her videos, behind the scenes of the videos and dancing to all the songs.  While Katy Perry isn't my taste, I don't mind.  I don't think she is going to last more that a few more years.  She seems so processed and fits perfectly into the mold of the minute..."Sweet Girl in Love" then "Pissed Divorcee'" and now "Strong Woman with a Voice" all the while dating Taylor Swift's sloppy seconds and ripping off a Sarah Bareilles song.

So when Laurel just wanted plain spaghetti for dinner (again!), I told her that I read about Katy Perry's diet--she eats a lot of chicken for strength.  (I know I am blatantly lying.  She probably has all organic vegan menu flown in with a Beverly Hills blessing to always have perky boobs on the side.)  But Laurel agreed--while she only ate a bite, it was one bite more than last night!

This could work for so many other things:
Homework:  Katy Perry makes sure that she always does her homework.  Her homework is making sure to know all about her audience and what songs they would like to hear.
Going to Bed Earlier:  Katy Perry gets 10 hours a sleep a night--how do you think she looks so good frolicking with elephants?
Brushing Teeth:  How do you think she eats all that candy from her California Girls video while maintaining a healthy smile?  "You know Laurel, you just can't buy white teeth."

But then again, this could backfire:
Skin Tight Jeans:  "And no Laurel, you are not going to be some one's teenage dream."
Brushing Hair:  "Laurel, I am sure that she still brushes her hair under her blue wig.  And no, you cannot have a blue wig."
Covering Up:  Honestly--I may not have to worry about boobs hanging out especially if she takes after me. But I will remain alert.

But again, we are talking about one bite of non-chicken-nugget chicken!  I am totally going with that.

Now, I lie and wait to see who Rachel starts to emulate.....

I took my time with it, remained calmed and realized that it wasn't some 20 year old flat-assed white girl with grungy looking tongue and a bad voice that was making me mad.

During my break from my blog, nothing screamed to me to get back to typing as the Miley Cyrus performance of last Sunday.  I took my time with it, remained calmed and realized that it wasn't some 20 year old flat-assed white girl with grungy looking tongue and a bad voice that was making me mad.  It was the song that was being performed with Robin Thicke, Blurred Lines, that was making me mad...at myself. This song is a constant reminder at how lax I am as a mother.

The radio has absolutely blown up with this song.  And I love it--it's a different, retro type of beat.  I can't get tired of it--I listen to it during my drive to and from work as well as during my run in the afternoon.  But it's a bad song--have you, not listened to the "radio friendly" lyrics but read what they are actually saying?  It rubs against every female sensibility that I was taught.  Regardless, I still listen and, even giggle at what is "blurred" out over the airwaves.  And Laurel listens to it too.  She likes it but has no idea what is being said and I leave it at that.

But then this performance happens.  Everyone is appalled--the twerking, the foam finger, etc.  (I only know one person who was smart enough to point out the atrocious geriatric shoes.)  But I really didn't hear a lot about the song.  I really didn't need too--I shouldn't let my girls listen to that song just like I shouldn't let them watch those obnoxious Disney tween shows or use the Ipad for hours.  This song is just another nail into the coffin of bad freakin' motherhood.  It's really going to bite me in the ass when Rachel will randomly ask, "What rhymes with hug me?"  And I know she is going to ask loudly, in front of several people.

For some reason, the focus is on a poorly executed twerk.  (That wasn't twerking--there is a very nice woman out of the South Bronx named Sweet Boogie who does an excellent tutorial on YouTube.  Good twerking is about a good squat.  Perhaps Miley forgot that move because she was obsessed with her tongue.)  The focus should be on a very well played song.  But this song is still going to be played and played by me...but only when I am alone.