Skip to main content

A MILF I am not....

Today as I was walking back to our house from the liquor store where I was picking up a selfie bottle of wine with my 13 pound Yorkie Dave, I came across two adolescent boys crouching down behind a short fence. I noticed they were either rolling a joint or just starting to smoke some weed. I smirked, fondly thinking back to those days when I would hide in my friends backyards smoking dirt pot and laughing at silly things. As we passed I gave them a "Hey dude, I'm cool" smile. After all, they have nothing to fear with me, a super cool, hip, millennial mom who is rocking dope new Target kicks that go perfectly with my purposefully ripped Target jeans.



I was sure that these two boys would recognize me for what I am: a chill, young women who is wearing her wine cozy over her shoulder and Lisa Loeb brand glasses that she picked up from Costco. They probably would even be shocked that I have a kid at all! They'd be all, "What? You? How?!" Frankly, I half expected that these two scamps would see how dope I was at first glance and offer me a hit of their green, to which I was shake me head and say, "Nah, playa, but thanks dude!" Then high five them both, and as I walked away they'd say to each other, "I hope we end up with bad ass chicks like her, she's boss!"



Sadly and horribly what actually happened was when these two 14 year old kids saw me that straightened up and hid their weed behind their backs and shhhh'd. When I said hello to them one responded with a "Hello ma'am."
 So, not only do these little fucks not view me as a super dope cool fresh young hottie with very fashionable eye wear, I'm a goddamn ma'am. 

                                            (I'm sorry, but look how f'ing cute these glasses are!)

I turned back to them ready to fire off some scathing retort about his unjust comment. The boys were frozen, watching me. They had a look of fear in their eyes. Not the kind of fear you get when you're afraid that someone is going to kick your ass or you're about to ask the girl of your dreams if she'll go to the dance with you, but the kind that you get when your parents or neighbors who are the same age as your parents catch you doing something you shouldn't. And they call them ma'am.

I decided not to word these two shits up about their inaccurate comment. I went home and opened up my bottle of wine that I could buy for myself because I'm a friggin' grown up. But I hope their parents ground those little shits for defamation!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Hi, my name is Amy, and I am a garbage mom.

I happen to be a part of the greatest Facebook mommy group of all time. It's filled with successful, interesting, hilarious and strong women who have kept me going on many an occasion. I can reach out to them about anything parenting related, no matter how small or embarrassing, and in almost every situation I get positive responses that are encouraging and helpful. Why does this qualify as the greatest mommy group of all time, you ask? Because this mommy group is a rare gem amongst the cubic zirconia's of social media life. It's an online community of women who actually support each other rather than tear each other down. More importantly, it's other moms who have been though the shit and we all can acknowledge that we are what is lovingly referred to as a "garbage mom", and I love them so much for it!

The term "garbage mom" is thrown around a ton in my mommy group, and I heard it again today as I was listening to one of my favorite podcasts, Why …

Welp, I'm Knocked Up Again

Yup, it's true. In fact, I'm super knocked up. 25 weeks along. It's happening people.

I'm due on April 12th and am having a boy this round, so I've been practicing for the event by having my husband surprise me by randomly peeing in my face when I didn't expect it. I need to work on my reflexes!

I'm kidding of course. My reflexes are already really good.

I found out about this one just like I found out about the last one: while I was drinking and having a great time, blissfully unaware that a human person was developing in my uterus. However this time I just knew. I knew something was different, was off a little. And I don't know why it occurs to me to take a pee test while gripping a vodka soda, but it seems to be my pattern.

When I started telling people I was pregnant again I got less "oh man, your life if over!" comments and more "well, at least you know what to do this time around!" That is not true in any form. I DO NOT know wh…

Into Emotional Cutting? Cool, Read The Giving Tree!

If there is one thing I know about myself it is that I simply can't eat an ice cream sandwich with any sort of dignity.

If there is a second thing I'm sure of, its that I am not emotionally healthy enough to handle the children's book The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein. That book sends me into a sobbing fit so powerful I need my inhaler to pull me out safely. Every time I open the book I am cutting myself emotionally, and this post is a cry for help.


If you're not familiar with this classic let me give you the cliff notes. It's about a boy and a tree. When the boy is young he loves the tree and hangs with it all the time, and the tree is so happy. They play and he climbs and he eats her apples and sleeps in her shade. The tree even allows the boy to carve their initials into her side that's surrounded by a heart. She loved this boy so much she allowed him to brand her permanently.

Things were pretty awesome for a long time, until the boy got a little older. H…