Not scary in the way you think

I am so tired of hearing about how hard parenting is, and, at the same time, how no matter what you do, that the kids will be just fine.

Confessions of a Scary Mommy: An Honest and Irreverent Look at Motherhood: The Good, The Bad, and the Scary (2 colons! Really!!) covers both of those themes, and summarizes just about everything that rubs me the wrong way about popular chatter on "motherhood" these days. Blogger Jill Smokler goes on about how being a mom is just so not easy and that we need to all just tell it like it is, cut each other slack, not get hung up on perfection, et cetera. But when everyone is telling the same boring "I hate my kid sometimes and need wine" stories, what is anyone really "confessing"? And at what point does giving up on "perfection" cross over to just giving up altogether (on your own health and that of your child, on your marriage, your body, your intelligence)?

I had a feeling this book wouldn't be "my thing" but thought I'd give it a try—something fun, something light...maybe even a little provocative, considering the title. After all, the author was a graphic designer in her previous life (like me), now living in Baltimore (cool city chick?). Maybe there'd be some common ground there. Creative thinking. Grit.

Turns out, not really.

Smokler is a blogger and I quickly discovered the book was basically a ton of short, banal, chapters that seemed very obviously to be blog posts (I haven't followed the blog so I won't say for sure, but that is what they seem like). Each chapter started with a round of "mommy confessions" that people have made on her site—very few of which resonated with me, though there were some here and there that did.

Generally, I found the book and its confessions to be rather trite and nothing "scary" or that way out. In fact, it was laden with clichés and sounded like the typical drivel that would come out of any middling suburban housewife's mouth (which I guess is why it's so popular). I do think it reflects a general lack of depth and real introspection that many mommies who want to pretend they're "so bad" have these days. Smokler admits to spacing out during childbirth classes then is shocked to learn she'll poop on the delivery table. Well, duh. She doesn't do any learning to prepare for breastfeeding, then finds she "doesn't have enough milk"...what a surprise! But, those moms who actually do take the time to learn a few things about birth, babies, nursing, kids...they are viewed with disdain as "perfect"? Apparently, the middling mommies are threatened by those who might be just little more intellectually rigorous and actually enjoy learning about the best ways to care for the most important people in their lives. The only "scary" things about this book were the author's ignorance and this whole reverse judging/anti-judging thing wherein the self-proclaimed "slacker" moms judge those who try.

One thing I was excited about was when I read in a promo that Smokler hated the pool. I hate the pool, too! I'd get this chapter for sure! Reading it, though, I learned we hate the pool for different reasons. She, because of a weird skeevishness about body fluids, a neurosis about her kids drowning and a burning jealously of a woman with a better body than her. Me, because of the cheesy classic rock they play there, a neurosis about chemicals and the environment, but mostly because the other children at the pool are so. very. annoying. I can't understand being jealous or hating on women who are more attractive than me—at this age, it's just basically ridiculous. Younger women will often be more attractive just because they're younger, and others will be just because they work so much harder at it, and others, still, just because of genetics. It's not really worth hating over. Either work at it, or give up and accept your lot.

A part of her book I knew I wouldn't be able to relate to, and therefore thought wouldn't offend me, was the chapter on loving one child more than the other. Smokler cleverly works around this nontroversy by explaining she loves them all equally overall, but at different times likes one more than the other—basically determined by who's pissing her off the least at any given moment. Cute! I get it. What's not so cute is her weird gender pigeonholing in this chapter. She admits she "never wanted boys" and that she always envisioned herself as the mother only of "little creatures dressed in cute little pink bloomers and polka-dot ruffled bathing suits." She admits to not being proud of crying when she found out via ultrasound that her second child was going to be a boy, so I guess she gets points for that, but what bothers me more than her not wanting a boy is what she thinks girls should be. Later in the chapter she says her daughter is "the girl I always wanted. She loves her Barbie dolls and playing with my makeup and trotting around in my high heels..." OK, get me my barf bag!

I was on the fence about writing a "review" of this book. On one hand, I felt a little foolish for reading something I knew probably wouldn't resonate with me. Also, I don't want to be so negative about this poor woman. But, she's probably not actually poor, as the book seems to be pretty popular, as does her blog...and, well, just the vibe behind this book was so ridiculously DUMB, I had to respond. I think it's actually dangerously dumb and the fact that so many people are giving it 5-star reviews on Amazon and throughout the mommy blogosphere is kind of concerning.

Take, for example, the much-touted "Scary Mommy Manifesto" part of the book that Smokler also blogged about on Huffington Post the other day and met with much approval, nodding and high-fiving. Most of it is good and right on, basically don't judge other people. But...can't I have an opinion on things? I asked a friend who posted this manifesto on Facebook if it was OK for me to have an opinion as long as I didn't judge? (Very fine line there, I suppose.) And he replied brilliantly, "You can give a shit, just don't give them shit." So I can give a shit that you're, say, feeding your toddler M&Ms to shut them up in the grocery store (#2) and at the same time trying not to pass down your messed up body issues to them (#9)...but I can't tell you that you, yourself are CREATING body issues by sating the child with junk food and setting them up for overeating to comfort themselves? Here's a hint: don't let them get fat and they won't have body issues.Of course, I would never say something to a real, live person at a grocery store giving their kid junk food. On an individual person-to-person level, it's none of my business, but, this book and its resonance, as social commentary, can very much be my business, if I happen to be disgusted by the stupidity of it all.

This book is Idiocracy in the parenting microcosm. It's America's "we can be as stupid as we wanna be" because we're American attitude (as described by Tom Friedman in Flat, Hot and Crowded, which is more typical of the books I read, and is by contrast, brilliant, but I know, I know, different genre). Let's be as ignorant and lazy as we want and then make fun of people who strive to do better (those moms who bake from scratch, or are successful at breastfeeding, or actually enjoy spring break or snow days, don't hate their husbands, et cetera). I have yet to run into any of these moms others claim make them feel so horrible and low. I have yet to run into anyone who lords their choices over others in real life.

Yes, many of us have our educated opinions about what's best that we write about or believe, but we generally don't harass strangers on the street about them (or in my case, I don't even let on to people I actually know). I think a lot of the grumpiness on the part of the "Scary Mommy" types comes from within. They know they kind of suck, aren't really sure how to break out of their suckage, and are threatened by those they perceive to be doing better. Meanwhile those they perceive to be doing better are just earnestly living their lives, doing the best they can, but maybe are a little smarter and actually give more shits about their kids than being cool bad-girl mommies. The "Scary Mommies" take comfort in this weird sorority of mediocrity. It's cool. I get it. I just don't want it. I'd rather hang with my husband and kid than kvetch with malcontent mommies any day.