Who's The Man?

What happened to this lady?

Or this one?

And this one?

OK. Fine. I wouldn't click on the links either...

What happened to the grow our own food local farmer's market raw milk contraband meat grind my own wheat make my own bread no fast food no soda no sugar make it from scratch mama who only ate eggs from her very own chickens?

Where the fuck is she?

She's vamoosed.

*****

Last week Ty said to me mom you're like The Man AND The Woman.

You do all the Man Things** and you also do all the Woman Things.

Tonight I made spaghetti and frozen meatballs no msg first ingredient beef second ingredient pork because tacos required TOO MUCH damn EFFORT.

I said half to Jack and half to myself it's ok if i don't cook i work full time and take care of 3 kids and i'm The Man so i don't have to cook

Jack said mom you are so not the man you can't bitch about your period and have no balls when it comes to mia and call yourself The Man.

He's got a point.

I talk about my period A LOT.

Jack advises ibuprofen and a lot of water.

Ty looks at me like I have two heads and says mom didnt you JUST HAVE your period?

poor things

And he's right. I have no balls with Mia.

So. Back to claiming my manhood in the presence of my adolescent son.

Mom, you're not gonna go all lesbian on us are you? i mean it's ok if you do but you won't... right?

No honey. I like men

How many of you are thinking omg how inappropriate?

how many of you are thinking I wish I could be that open with my kid?

Whatever. I fall somewhere in the space between.

*****

The point is, I've decided to cut myself some slack.

I work.

I work hard.

I work long hours.

I bring home my share of the bacon.

Ty fries it up in a pan. He's a much better cook than I.

I juggle my kids. And all their friends.

I'm the Cool Mom.

My home is the place they all choose to be.

They'd all rather be here than anywhere else.

That's pretty neat.

So what if I don't cook from scratch?

So what if BJ's is my new favorite place to shop?

I buy industrial meat patties in bulk and the boys know how to fire up the bar b q and they live on hamburgers and hot dogs and toaster strudel and oreos.

And Coke.

They all eat standing up and on the move and never at the dining room table.

They don't even use plates.

Who gives a shit?

Not me. I have my own plate and there's plenty on it.

I'll ignore the voice in my head reminding me about the importance of family dinner, cooking for loved ones, communion, and you are what you eat.

The kids are way happier with me not cooking.

I come home with a trunkful of frozen ready to microwave food and they throw their arms around me and say we love you mom you're the best mom in the world all this food we're set for LIFE.

And I count up the 4 or 5 14 yr olds and the 2 or 3 10 yr olds and a couple a 9 yr olds and random neighborhood kids and if we're lucky some cousins and I say we're set for the weekend. Maybe.

*****

I pulled the wrong way out of a parking spot today leaving Ty's cello concert and ripped the bumper off my new car.

But dammit if I didn't get down on my hands and knees in my dress and yank that fucker out from underneath the car so I could drive my broken car home.

I don't need no stinkin tow truck.

I don't need no stinkin help.

I don't need no stinkin man.

Though it did cross my mind to call roadside assistance.

FUCK THAT

I can do it myself. Just like a 2 year old.

Though it is kinda funny how many men will offer their assistance and experience and help when they realize I'm a "single mom"

the tree guy

the fence guy

the mover guy

the painter guy

the electrical guy

sometimes I pull the smile bat my lashes and play dumb act

most times it doesn't feel like an act

So who's the man?

**Never fear. Bruce is no Dead Beat Dad. And he's a good friend. As he always has been.