The judge is OUT

Last night was my monthly girls’ night out with Lisa, Debby and Karen. As usual, we talked of many things, had a wonderful time, drank expensive wine and (in my case) ate too much. Halfway through the meal, Debby, one of my most loyal blog readers, said jokingly (at least I hope she was joking) that I could never come to her house again since she has plastic toys and high chairs all over and, given my loud and insistent rejection of all things plastic, I must hate to be in her house. I sometimes hear this same sentiment from Allison, who, shortly after I had Clementine, sent me a copy of Babywise, a book I came to disagree with and loathe wholeheartedly. She sometimes thinks because I disagree with her parenting style I must disagree with her whole lifestyle and find nothing she says valuable.

To these ladies and all parents everywhere: I am not judging you for making different parenting decisions than I am! If anything, I’m grateful for the diversity of thought and opinion, and to tell the truth, I’m always secretly wondering if I shouldn’t just buck up and do it your way. I’m grateful for being able to go over to Debby’s house and put Clementine in her plastic over-stimulation station so I can eat dinner with two hands and hang out with adults. I’m grateful that I can always count on Allison to bring me back down to earth when I’m ramped up about some crazy notion (like a million dollar high chair). Sure, I don’t want all that plastic shit in my house, but I don’t care and don’t judge if you do. I’m sure you guys aren’t itching to get a tattoo in honor of your kids, but I am and I trust you aren’t judging me for that. You may be thinking I’m one crazy bitch, and I’ll give you that, but you’re not thinking I am a bad mom for doing something a bit different. Are you??

Being a mom makes you such a public figure, and it’s hard not to think there is one right way to do things. I’ve commented before on how going to Target and seeing the other moms there with their germs shields and stick-on placemats, their coiffed hair and serene authority make me an insecure mess. I’m pretty convinced everyone’s a little better at this whole mom thing than I am, and I’m humbled to think I have ever made anyone else feel that same way. Guys, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing! And someday I may even ask why it seemed so damn important to me to avoid a glut of plastic and the cry-it-out method, why I needed to use eco-friendly gDiapers, why I resisted the mainstream at every turn. Until then, I’m going to keep doing it my way, and I fully expect you to keep doing it yours. Cheerleading session over.