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My placenta tastes better than your placenta……


We just had a conference week so EVERY DAY was early dismissal!! You know how the teachers in my town don’t like to stay at school anytime after 3:30…right?  

So by cutting the school day short they are able to eat 55 sandwiches and meet with parents without having a long day.

Anyways, so what we did to fill our days was host playdates!!  I was due for a bunch so we had 6 playdates this week and I have to say that now that the kids are getting older – it really isn’t too bad.

However – it made me think back to the time when I was locked up in the house with babies and had gotten roped into a playgroup.  Those playdates were the absolute worst hours of my life!!!

Let’s face it – the playdate for babies and toddlers is really an excuse for bored moms to get together and talk about how horrible their lives are. 

Of course, my luck is to get stuck with a bunch of women who want to talk about how much they love their children.

Playdates are also an opportunity for moms to participate in one of their favorite past-times which is to compete with other mothers. 

Why do we do it? 

Why do we even compete about food??

Why do we care?

But we do.

It starts right from the minute we get pregnant.

“You eat cold cuts? – Oh I would never, I haven’t even had a drop of coffee, not even decaf because Dr. Oz says there’s caffeine in decaf….”

Then we start right away competing with the whole breastfeeding war.

“I breastfed Ava right up until she was ready for first grade…I didn’t mind at all….”

Then we jump into food. 

Oh I would never feed my baby – baby food from a jar!!! I make all of my own baby food from scratch.  I bought a $300 baby food maker and it purees an organic banana like you wouldn’t believe.”

Of course some people even take it a step further.

January Jones recently announced that she has been consuming her own placenta since giving birth to her child.  This is the new cool thing to do apparently.  Placentas can be ground up and eaten in pill form for the squeamish…..

Alicia Silverstone has been all over the headlines because she believes that she is a bird.  Because of this – she spits food into her child’s mouth after she chews it for him.

Let me just say Alicia – there is something called a food processor.  I know you are out to win “Mom of the Century” but let’s not reinvent the wheel here.

There are many ways to cut up food.  If you didn’t want to waste energy by using a blender – (because I know how you hippies are) you could even use a good old fork and knife to cut things up.

I’m not quite sure what you are accomplishing by making out with your baby in this manner,  instead of just feeding him like a rational adult. 

When I got invited into my mommy cult playgroup – I was new to the world of playdates and wasn’t really aware of all of the rules and etiquette.

When it was my first time hosting, I racked my brain to think of the perfect snack that would make the kids like me the best.

It was my friend Martha that said "Good mothers don't feed their kids red and orange dyes......"

I didn’t know! 

I also was thinking that maybe these women (whom I had never met before) could be my new friends.   I had been in the house going crazy – my only communication being with long-distance friends on the phone.

I was kind of picturing this in my kitchen once a week:

I mean how bad could it be? We can talk some shit about other moms and neighbors, dish some celebrity gossip and ignore the kids..... This could be fun!!

So – when I was finished filling baskets with Doritos I got together some “Mommy treats”……

This did not go over well - apparently some people think that 10:30 am is too early for a Skinnygirl Cosmo......what a bunch of losers.

I slowly realized what was proper and acceptable and what wasn’t. 

Kids were given water or breast milk served directly from a huge engorged boob that was whipped out at any given moment with reckless abandon, and a choice of cut up grapes or goldfish crackers. 

Moms were served this:

Instead of running for my life after my first encounter with these idiots – I stuck it out for like 6 months.  I kept trying to talk to them truthfully about how difficult life was or how sometimes I would eat more than just my placenta pills at breakfast even though I was fat. 

They never responded appropriately, the way any of my real friends would.

One time they were all talking about how devastating it would be when the kids (who were all 2 at the time) started preschool. After everyone kept going on and on about how many tears they would shed when they left Brayden, Cayden, Layden and Jaden at the preschool for 2 hours, I interjected.

“Um – really? I intend to peel out of the parking lot at warp speeds and chain smoke Parliament Lights all the way home…….” I said matter-of-factly as I popped a chunk of my placenta into my mouth.

When I looked up this is what I saw…….

Nobody said a word.....Nobody laughed......a cricket chirped....and then I just got my coat and left.

What is happening to this world?

Why can’t we laugh at ourselves?

Why can’t we just feed our kids food and beverages and act normal???

WHY????

ATTENTION NEW MOTHERS!! 

Do not feel inferior to crazy lunatics that think their placenta is better than a Dorito. 

Do your best, feed your child in a calm rational manner.

Oh and one more thing……..Do not join a playgroup.

I ACTUALLY HAVE SINCE QUIT SMOKING – SO I THINK I DESERVE AT LEAST A VOTE ON THE LINK BELOW…..THANK YOU MUCH!!!

XO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA

 

Linking to

Mommy tip #1- Don’t ever join a playgroup; they suck


I recently saw someone who looked familiar.

“I know you don’t I?” she said eyeing me carefully. When we made eye contact I knew that she had been in a playgroup with me.

“No, I don’t think so,” I said breaking into a cold sweat praying for the store clerk to hurry up with my purchase.

“Yes, you have 2 little boys…..” she trailed off.

Caught, I had to engage and pretend that I just remembered who she was. I escaped after some quick small talk. As I left the store, I reflected back on those early years when I was stuck home with my first baby, wandering the world aimlessly in search of any activity that would kill time. There was a community place we would go for two hours every Wednesday, where kids could play and moms sat on couches, glassy-eyed, chatting about potty-training, making homemade baby-food, nursing, and other riveting topics. One day a mom I had made small talk with in the past, approached me and said “I told my playgroup about you and they said I could invite you to join us!”.

She was so excited to tell me this great news, and I was so caught off guard, that I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I would rather gouge out my eyeballs with sharp objects than join her playgroup.

“Um, ok….when is it?” I asked.

So of course I got sucked into this playgroup after being home for about a month with my one-year old. This was essentially my first taste of the world of stay-at-home “Mommy-hood”, and to say it was a shock is putting it mildly.
First off, there were 5 of us in the group, and I was the only one who had not emptied out my dining room and transformed it into a playroom.

“Oh, but where’s your table and chairs.” I asked staring at the heaps of toys, baby swings and train tables.

“Everything is in storage,” they would say with their soft robotic voices.
“Your china and silver?”
“We don’t need it anymore,” they would say smiling lovingly at their two-year olds.

WTF?

Was I the only one who someday dreamt of eating a meal with
another adult off of something other than a Wiggles paper plate while actually sitting down on a chair??? As I went from house to house and saw the same set-up I started to wonder if I was naive or maybe selfish.
It became increasingly more and more clear to me that I was not like these women. Myself and one of the other girls was pregnant and two others had just had their second. Being home with a one-year old all day was exhausting and extremely difficult while pregnant, and I seemed to be the only one to complain or be tired.  They all were always smiling and seemed to love very minute of being home with small children.

One time they were all talking about when the older kids turned 3 and went to preschool, how we would deal with the trauma of leaving them at school.

“Honestly, I’m going to drop him off, peel out of the parking lot and chain smoke cigarettes all the way home,” I joked.

Crickets chirped.

A tumbleweed rolled by.

4 Stepford wives stared at me in horror.

It got to the point where I dreaded going. I began to feel more and more guilt for not basking in the joy of motherhood and wondered every week if maybe i was just a miserable horrible person. My son didn’t really care about playing with any of the kids and I basically went to kill 2 hours, but hated every minute of it. I couldn’t just quit though. What would be my reason?
“You guys are all just a little too happy, and seem to love your children a little too much…..I quit.”
My plan was to claim I was too overwhelmed when I had my second
baby in the summer and quit the group. June couldn’t come fast
enough.

The “playgroup leader” came to visit when I had the baby. (I’m not making up that title in case you all are thinking that sounds a little crazy, this is what I was dealing with.)

“So, it’s really crazy having two babies 18 months apart, and I don’t think I’ll be able to make it to playgroup anymore….You make it look so easy,” I said.
“Oh well, I’ve been taking drugs for postpartum for three years, so nothing upsets me,” she said with her smile that I could now see was a little dopey.
Nervously, I changed topics, ” Well, Lena makes it seem like a
breeze too with her two boys,” I said focusing on another playgroup member.
“She is heavily medicated,” she answered matter-of-factly.
“Okay…..what about Jill and Kelly?” I asked incredulously.
“I’m pretty sure they are still taking something to take the edge off too,” she said as though we were talking about eating m&m’s.
So here I was for 9 months feeling bad about myself and hating this playgroup and these bitches were in drug-induced fogs the whole
time!!!!
I could not believe it. I quit the playgroup and now whenever I see a mom that seems just a little too happy, I think to myself, it must be the Zoloft.

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