SNITCHES GET STITCHES

Bad Moms Are My Inspiration

Outdoor kiddies

In the old days, everybody went outside. It wasn’t a ‘thing.’ Now, it’s a ‘thing.’ Everything is a thing now and you gotta pick a side.

Does your kid go outside or does your kid play video games? It has nothing to do with how good a mom you are. Some kids were born with computer chips brains. Other kids were born with the need to step in dog shit. It’s biology.

My kid was born with the chip. I couldn’t pay him to go outside. I couldn't bribe him, threaten him, or gets the locks changed.

I didn’t really want him to go outside. Then, I’d would have to join him and watch children play while I pretended to like the moms.

My only motivation to get him outside was so I didn’t have to listen to those kale-tech-free-moms brag about their outdoor children.

Mine’s an outdoor kitty, one old mom boasted to me — acting like one of those women who’s wearing a gown who says “Oh this old thang?”

The old mom and I had a lot in common. We were old. I don’t want to have anything in common with old moms. They’re menopausal and they want to talk about hormones. I like the young moms, especially the divorced ones who talk about getting laid and ghosted by guys on Tinder. Way more interesting.

Old moms, like me, know how fucked up the world is. If you turn around for one second, they try to discretely shove their kids back into the birth canal.

When you catch them doing it, they say, “Global warming. What’s the point of raising kids in this world?”

I don’t point out they missed that window because they’ve got a kid shoved halfway up their hoo-hah and it’s hard to look at.

Young moms are cool and they don’t know anything. They think it’s perfectly reasonable to keep having more kids as the doomsday clock ticks down — I don’t want to hang with them either because they’re sitting in a burning building setting a table. It’s awkward.

I tried to take my kid outside, I explained to old mom, but he yelled at me and I get migraines so I give him whatever he wants.

Old mom turned me into the other moms. She told everyone we knew that my kid was a computer chip kid.

It’s so easy to get snitched on. One wrong step and the moms start talking shit about you. I get it. For the three minutes they’re crucifying me, they’re free from the fear that they’re the terrible mother. We all gotta take one for the team.

No one is snitch immunte. Not the supermoms, the soccer moms, or the mensa moms. It’s McCarthyism. If you can point out another bad mom, you’re free until someone points the finger back at you.

We’re our own Big Brother. Or Big Mother. Depends if you wanna feminize fascism.

In my defense, my son does go outside to play, just not when it’s cold, or raining, or the leaves are on the trees.

Today, I photographed my son when he was walking to the car. I posted it my Facebook mom's group and captioned it, “outdoor kitty. ”

Now I just wait for some other mom to fuck up. Shouldn’t be long now.

Thanks to editor Gary Chapin for using oeuvre in a sentence because then we get to live in his book with him.