The Truth Hurts

May 08, 2008 Do you know that iVillage Gal wrote me back and was all nice even though I was a total bitchface to her? And now she's my Facebook friend and everything? Oh, iVillage Gal. You are either the nicest person on earth or a PR genius, but at any rate, here: Momtourage.


The site actually has very little to do with mommyblogging so uh. My bad. My feedback, iVillage Gal, is that I hate going to iVillage sites because they have so many pop-ups. I know you have to pay the light bill, but popups suck. Also, I block them so whatever you're selling with the popups? I'm not seeing. It's probably diapers or shit like that anyway.


Man, I was such a hag yesterday. Lesley even chided me and I hate to piss off Lesley. Forgive me, all. I do value your advice.


I wonder how I get on these lists? Am I influential in some way? If I am I would like to know it, please, so I can meet Gerard Way or Dolly Parton. Huh. That was about the weirdest sentence I've read today and my Google Reader has some shit on it. Back to the point about getting sent free books and such: a while back someone from somewhere sent me a copy of some book called "The Sweet Potato Queen's Guide to Raising Children for Fun and Profit" and my god that's some dated, lame, cliched, twee, treacly, unadulterated, stupid, oh my god I can't even come up with a creative way to explain the FECES that my chimp brain wanted to throw at the cover of that book, CRAP. Apparently, and I'm going out on a limb here because I'm not entirely familiar, these Queens wear crowns and carry wands and talk in a southern accents and have parades and the whole affair is just a stone's throw away from being in that dumbass Red Hat Club. Ew. Why would anyone send me a book employing that gimmick? Did they just have leftovers lying around, or did a menopausal kooks in a marketing meeting say, "Hey, my teenage daughter reads these things called 'blergs' or 'bloigs' or 'blogs' and apparently they're all the rage! Let's market to them!"


I sure do like sweet potatoes, though. They are damn good.


Tomorrow is Elliot's 9th grade formal and he's managed to put off asking the girl who was expecting him to ask her and now it's too late. His dad and I and all his friends, including the girl in question's best friend, have spent the last month pleading, suggesting, prodding, nudging, begging, yelling, screaming, and ordering him to JUST DO IT, but apparently adolescent awkwardness carried the day. Can I be candid? (HAHAHAHA) I'm ashamed of him. I understand how he nervous and weird he feels, but I still can't believe he let this happen. That having been said it's none of my business but I can't promise that Elliot's dad isn't going to march into that dance tomorrow and hand that poor girl a wrist corsage. Mr. Friendly, he of the toilet full of flowers and rose petal trails and candles and romantic poems and all that sentimental junk, is horrified at Elliot passing up an opportunity to make teh ladeez swoon. I am just pissed off on behalf of that poor girl but truth be told? She probably likes Elliot more now that he's acted like an asshole. Women.

More more more

May 07, 2008 MORE clarification. God.

1. Elliot does not know I look at his Facebook. DOES. NOT. KNOW. Therefore, if I want to keep snooping, I cannot passively-aggressively work "bitchface" into conversation, nor can I reproach him in any way, nor do I want to. He has a right to say whatever he wants to his friends, in private. And whoever said the thing about eavesdropping is right: you never hear anything pleasant. If he said it to my face that would be a different matter, just like if I called him a fucker in real life.

2. He doesn't have a blog. Facebook doesn't have blogs. MySpace has blogs. Get with it people! I saw the remark in question in a string of Facebook messages between him and his friends about a party that he didn't get to go to last Saturday. And his DAD told him he couldn't go to, by the way. His dad didn't get called "dickface!" Yet!

3. Elliot knows I have a blog but he says he doesn't know what the url is and even if he did he wouldn't read it because it would be "boring." I check his history on his computer periodically and have never found it. That doesn't mean he hasn't read it, but...I kind of think he hasn't. I have warned him repeatedly and strongly not to tell his friends that I have a blog because he would most certainly be embarrassed if they found it and read it.

Now I don't want to talk about this any more but I reserve the right to god damn well come back in the future and moan and groan all I want about how it hurts my feelings that my teenager calls me names behind my back and doesn't like me very much. And why yes! I called my parents names! Somewhere, probably in my mother's house, there exist handwritten diaries from back in the day that would curl my parents' hair with my seething hatred. I remember once writing that I couldn't wait until I was old enough to move out of their house and when I did I would never speak to them again ever ever ever ever! And yet, hmmm. My dad comments in my journal and I saw my mom last week! How odd that it turned out that way! Who knew? Oh yeah, everybody! WHO CARES! I still feel bad that my son, the one that breaks my heart, got mad at me and called me a name. Have you MET ME??

I know there are tough times ahead for me and for Elliot. Teenagers are difficult? YOU DON'T SAY! I'VE NEVER HEARD THAT!

My bad mood evidently continues.

I just got a perfectly nice email from someone trying to get me to read some crap on iVillage about a "momtourage" and I went ballistic and replied with a blazing rantmail about mommybloggers with their Pumas and $1000 cameras and sentimental drivel and assuming that gal reads her email she's going to be on her Facebook at any moment calling me "bitchface."

I'm sorry, gal from iVillage. You caught me on a bad day. xo

Here, have some guilt

May 06, 2008 You know, I really, honestly, sincerely, earnest adverbly, appreciate your comments about being called "bitchface." Oh, and my tooth and shoulder, but mostly Elliot. I know it's old hat to you parents of teenagers and YES I KNOW this moment is normal and everything. I just wasn't prepared for it. I was naive. I thought I'd be the only mother anywhere ever whose teenage kid loved and appreciated her for all she did.

In the parlance of today's young folk: DENIED.

I feel a lot like I did when Elliot was a newborn (except less sleepy): shocked and dismayed at how thankless and painful this parenting shit turned out to be and ohmygod why didn't I believe everyone when they said this was going to suck?

That fucker doesn't like me! After all I've done for him and despite how much I love him! What the hell? Well damn it I don't care! I'm not in it to be liked! I'm here to make sure he grows into a good and successful man! He can Not Like Me all he wants! I'm the adult here!

For information purposes: Elliot does not know I read his Facebook. I hacked into it and this is what I get for doing so. I'm not making excuses because I don't give a shit what anyone thinks about my parenting tactics, but there's a reason I snoop. I don't want to be that mom who stands there shell shocked when the police show up at her door or blinks in disbelief when she finds meth in her kid's room or wails, "Why didn't he tell me something was wrong!?" when she finds her kid dead from suicide over a failed romance. I will use every tool at my disposal to keep Elliot alive and out of jail and if I have to invade his "privacy" then so be it. He doesn't have any privacy in my house anyway. He's 14.

Sure, I could do all manner of mean things to retaliate for being called a bitchface: delete his Facebook entirely, lock him out of it by changing his password, send dorky messages to his friends, put up naked baby pictures, on and on but I'm not going to, of course. He didn't know I was going to read it and he's allowed to express himself honestly in private, even if it hurts my feelings. And I complain about him too. Duh.

I would like to think I temper my complaints with some positive comments, DAMN HIM, but still. I'm quite sure he wouldn't like what I say about him.

Lest you all think I'm well-adjusted about this, though--I do have a question:

How long will it be before he likes me again? :(