A week or so ago when I started writing this post, I was riding the high of my latest "brilliant" idea: a giveaway.
You see, when you are lucky enough to become a big-time blogger, people give you really cool products to give away to your readers. However, I am not a big blogger, so my "prizes" were simple to begin with.
Basically the idea started when I got together with some long-lost mommy friends for a play date/bitch session. It was nice to be able to vent honestly about motherhood with other moms who have toddlers and babies. It got me thinking about the book I recently read - I Was a Really Good Mom Before I Had Kids - which begs parents (but women especially) to indulge in more of this honesty and less of the back-biting competition. I thought to myself, I have a great group of moms, dads and someday-to-be-parents online. Maybe I could get them to share their own ugly truths and/or fears?
Unfortunately, most of the people who come to my blog are both wonderful friends and shameless lurkers. So I decided I would try and bribe a few of them out of their shells with the promise that a comment automatically entered you into a giveaway. The prize was a once-read copy of the aforementioned book along with a brand-new, hardcover copy of the book Bad Mother by Ayelet Waldman - shipped straight to your door by moi!
And this is where it went awry. I honestly thought of this idea while frantically shoving a bagel down a starving toddler in Barnes and Noble. I realized that a used book was a lame prize, so I did a quick walk through in the parents' section and immediately spotted Bad Mother. Even as I bought it, I was internally rolling my eyes at the idea that yet another book had been written about the Bad Mother phenomenon. I mean, it seems there are a million books and bloggers who have covered this subject, and I was promoting the topic once again with yet another book.
When I got home, I lazily thumbed through a couple of pages. Then a couple more. Then I said "screw it" and devoured the entire book in whatever precious spare moments I could find. It was great. So great that I came up with the world's corniest comparison:
I Was a Really Good Mom Before I Had Kids was like stealing a handful of candy from the candy dish here and there - short, sweet and temporarily satisfying. But Bad Mother was like slowly indulging in a rich dessert. Her memoir writing is a fully sensory experience and her observations are dead on. The phrases and images are still rolling around in my head.
The only problem is that my "prize" has now become two once-loved books. So lame. If, however, you want to read them anyway, feel free to comment and share a parenting (or babysitting for that matter) horror story. Or just indicate if you've done one or more of the following:
A) Had the desire to physically throttle your children
B) Let them eat something neon-colored for breakfast
C) Left them in the car to sleep
D) Told them to "stop crying" even though you know this only makes things worse
E) Found yourself doing that one thing you swore you'd never do when you became a parent
I'll pick a winner (at random) on Friday, July 24. If no one enters a comment, I'll just search out the most harried mother I can find on the playground and slip them into her diaper bag - along with a note that reads "I'm right there with you, babe."