Brie-eating, coffee-drinking, back-sleeping badass mom.

In my country at least, scaring new and upcoming moms is a national passtime. Oh, the list of what you can and cannot do, should and should not take, see, hear and smell is perpetually growing and will eventually contain every substance, activity and piece of clothing known to woman.

When you are first pregnant, your fear factor is great. You do everything you are “supposed” to and nothing you are not, and you feel pure and clean in your confidence that you have done everything you are supposed to do (include resisting chocolate) to ensure a healthy outcome for your unborn child.

Then you deliver said child and spend countless hours reading parenting books about sleeping, behaviour, stimulation, intelligence, horror stories, and tear-jerking stories that help you become the #1 parent EVER and you just KNOW your kid is going to be a Rhodes scholar (and a well-behaved one at that) by the time you’re done with him/her.

Now, by the time you actually get to toddler phase and you’re knocked up again, you’ve seen it all and heard it all and you’re too tired or saturated or cynical to give a crap anymore, and you realise that all the hype is very much that, just hype. Some way, some how, someone benefits from being a conspiracy theorist. Now you don’t have the time to follow all the instructions, or the inclination to watch everything you eat when the odds are so low that anything will happen. And all that aside, you’re so sick of the pestering you decide to rebel.

Oh, people will tell you what bad choices you’re making, how many nitrates you are consuming in that deli meat and how that cup of coffee is going to make your kid grow an extra shoulder. You’ll be informed that your kid will need therapy in adulthood because you said “no” or that you’ll struggle with behavioural issues for years to come if you don’t start sleep training now.

Bullocks.

I’m joining the Bad Mom’s Club. I`m going somewhere that I can get the support and camaraderie that I need and deserve, where we can celebrate our badness and eat caffeine-laden chocolate cookies after brie and blue cheese sandwiches. We`re going to let our kids stay up past their regimented bed time, put on a DVD for them and feed them cheezies for a night. We`re going to set boundaries without trying to logic, go out in the rain without the right boots, and read books about farting dogs.

It`s perfect. I feel so liberated. Screw you, Internet and do-gooders. I`ll raise my kids just fine without you.

Disclaimer: The author of this blog posting in no way condones irresponsible and reckless behaviour for pregnant women or mothers. Please refrain from doing anything that will truly harm your child, physically or emotionally. But don`t worry about the unmatching pajamas… I promise he`ll get over it.

Image courtesy of www. nataliedee.com.