My husband thought he would be hilarious in convincing our 6 year old daughter that if I went to see the movie Bad Moms 2, I would instantaneously become a bad mom.
“Mom, you must not see that movie. Nooooooooo,” she pleaded, sobbing, hiccuping, the works. Mind you, this was at noon, and my movie would not begin until 4 pm. This could be a very long day if the idea of Mom heading to a movie puts her child in this ultra-dramatic and clearly traumatic state of mind. What did my daughter’s version of a bad mom look like? Someone who did not make cocoa with whip cream? Someone who did not braid her hair? Someone who limited tub time to just two minutes? So after cursing the love of my life for senselessly putting this “BADMOM vision” into our daughter’s brain, I did what all good moms do; I lied to her.
I tried to tell her I was just going to visit a friend.
“Well, bring me too; I like Jackie’s house.”
“Actually, no,” I remembered, “there is no food in the house, so I should probably go grocery shopping alone while you have a ton of fun with your dad.” Perhaps she really just did not want to be left home with Geoff, alone, as her brother was away at his uncle’s for the weekend.
“Well, you always bring me to the grocery store, so I’ll just come with you,” she reasoned as a declarative statement of fact. There would be no ditching the small blond with the blue eyes to take in a Moms Only kind of movie. Although she stood in front of me with her hand on her hip, ponytail slightly askew from our morning hike, she might as well have wrapped her entire body around my legs and dipped us in cement. She might as well still be six months old and stuck to my chest in the Baby Bjorn while I cooked dinner, folded laundry, played trucks with my son, changed light bulbs, brushed my teeth, or any other action that required movement. This one is tough to shake and has been since birth.
When lying didn’t work, I tried another tactic of good mothers everywhere. I faked receiving a text message from my friend Jackie asking me if we could just check out a new couch for her living room. “Why does Jackie need a new couch?” The web of lies continued as I told her she was thinking of a new one for her porch. “That makes sense,” she agreed, “but you won’t be able to fit the couch in Jackie’s car. You need Pop Pop or Uncle Matt’s truck.” Damn, she was really thinking this through. Then, I sent a text to my neighbor Michelle, also joining me for the movie, asking them to come over to visit knowing the distraction of her 10 year old daughter could expedite my need to get to Bad Moms 2 on time. Keep in mind, this is the 4 pm MATINEE. I wasn’t even trying to get an entire ladies’ night out– just 1 hour and 45 minutes of laughter with Jackie and Michelle, friends I don’t see nearly often enough and certainly not at the movie theater. I couldn’t remember the last non-kid film I had seen. Despite my love of Moana and minions many times over, going to see a movie as an adult every one or two years is not a crime.
So, Jackie swooped in and thanked Greta for letting me go couch shopping with her, clearly feeling guilty about being part of my twisted set of lies. But really I blame Geoff for his poor timing in imagining aloud, “What would happen if Mommy turned into a BAD MOMMY?”
You might be wondering about the movie. Was it worth a mother’s betrayal of her daughter? Absolutely. I never saw Bad Moms 1, but the “prequel” was not necessary. We did not take a photo of ourselves at the theater although we should have because it probably won’t ever happen again. We three moms in our 40’s shared the theater with five women in their 60-70’s and all of us just about peed our pants.
We returned home to the chaos of homemade blue slime all over the table and maybe some on the ceiling, but I am such a good mom, I was not going to complain. Not a word. Do yourself a favor #badmoms everywhere: see the film with a friend and you will be a better mom when you return. Do not expect award winning acting, but expect to laugh– a lot. Couch shopping has never been so fun.
Side note: I’m beginning my third letter to Ellen and Portia and would really love to tell them that I have more than 37 Twitter followers…