Sid and Nancy we weren't. Neither were we Ozzy and Harriet, though we may have been closer to Ozzy and Sharon. I would like to say we were like Lucy and Ricky, but I was never as cute as Lucille Ball, nor as comically gifted. Before kids we were just us. A couple of misbehaved teenagers and then poorly behaved young adults. We did what we wanted, on our own schedules, and held obligations only because we chose to and they made us happy. (Or we thought they would eventually make us happy, like school or work)
My husband and I met in High School. We dated for 9 1/2 years before we got married. After nearly 10 years it wasn't a matter of running down the aisle, madly in love, it was a matter of convenience. We were together, we had been together, and apart, through a lot. We both planned on staying together, being married wasn't a sign of our devotion to each other. (That we had proved through 9 1/2 years in our late teens and early twenties, which is a hard thing to accomplish)
I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis in 2006. I was an unemployed, post college graduate who hadn't been able to get a job, or hold a job, due to mystery health issues. Once diagnosed health insurance was much harder to get, and much more needed. We were married in July of 2007. We get a nice tax break for filing jointly as well. My husband hates when I say, "we got married for health insurance." He says it sounds like I don't love him. I love him. I would be lost without him. He is my soulmate, but he would have been my soulmate whether we got married or not. I would have loved him all of my life without a wedding. Really, once married our relationship changed very little. We went on along our way and I got to say "husband" instead of "boyfriend" affording our relationship more credibility to others, but whatever.
And then, then we had kids. Our first child was planned. Make no mistake, we wanted that baby. It was a surprise how quickly I got pregnant, and then the whole pregnancy thing was a bit shocking all the way around. I missed a lot of awesome concerts that year. Once every 7 years every band I really love enough to go see wanders through town. Somehow they all aligned in that year. There were 6 concerts I would have loved to have gone to all in one summer - unbelievable, I hate crowds. I was too sick and exhausted from my pregnancy. My husband went to them all. Jerk. So it began.
Having kids changes your life. Which, really, is a no brainer. The ways in which I incorporate my children into my life, or work my life around my children, always surprises me nonetheless. My, now 3 1/2 year old, does not, and has never had a mohawk. I'm not against it. I would give him one in a heartbeat. My husband vetoes me every time though. It's far too trendy these days. (and everyone knows punk rockers hate nothing so much as trendy) I don't dye his hair, and he doesn't have studs or a chain wallet. I buy him lots of things with skulls and crossbones on them. I like that stuff. I figure, hating something just because it's mainstream is equally as silly as loving something only because it is. I even saw an adorable baby blanket when my son was very young, it says, "little punk" and has a jolly roger. Who would have know, out of all the blankets we had, that would be the one he bonded to and won't let out of his sight.
My point though, was that my punk rock history turns up in less obvious ways most of the time. I mean, for several months I was the mommy at pre school drop off with the pink hair, but usually it's more subtle. When my son was only a few weeks old my husband stopped outside the nursery door, and asked, rather incredulously, if I was singing Black Flag to our baby. I admitted I was, sort of. I was singing to the tune of TV Party, but the words were different. (We're gonna put a clean diaper on you, alright! We're gonna put a clean diaper on you, alright! I've got nothing better to do, then clean poopy off you. We're gonna put a clean diaper on you! Yes we are!" Yea, I used "poopy" in a black flag rip off.) I also sing "Mother" to my daughter, only I use her name. It doesn't make any sense, but she still likes to hear her name over and over.
My son knows a lot of swear words. Now that he's learned them, I'm trying to convince him not to say them. It's like dangling candy in front of him, then telling him he can't eat any. Ha. When trying to think of something soothing to play to our son to help him sleep, we discuss "The Clash." When I put music on the iPod for my son, it's "Stray Cats."
I think, with kids, the line between hippy and punk rock blurs. Now they call it being a "crunchy mom." Hippies and punk rockers are very close a lot of the time when it comes to parenting. Usually we have different motivations though. Punk rockers are often out to save money, and, really, abhor everything mainstream. Alternative is good. We used cloth diapers for a long time. I love them. I am a cloth diaper fan. I would pull out my cloth diapers and show them to anyone who expressed the tiniest interested at the drop of a hat. I didn't think everyone needed to use them, I just thought anyone interested should try because they're super easy and can save a ton of money. (Fuck the environment. That's not my issue) I researched vaccines deeply before deciding on whether to get my children vaccinated or not. (We do) We try and buy organic, we only purchased hormone free milk, (really, everyone should do that one, don't even get me started) I try to buy "natural" alternatives for a lot of our foods. (Though, I do love to say that shit is natural, and you don't eat that. My goal is to be able to pronounce all of the ingredients, and know what they are) I think that it goes back to my punk rock history. I'm loath to just accept anything without question. I want to know the details. I want to make an informed choice, the one that is best for my family. I don't actually care what anyone else does with their family. Very punk rock. I will tell you though, that I'm a "crunchy" mom, if we get into the discussion about them. (all moms have that discussion eventually don't they? On a scale of 1-clinically insane how crunchy are you?) Again though, I do what works for me. I think everyone else should do what works for them, and tell anyone who has a problem with it to Fuck off.
I'm a crunchy, sometimes pink haired, swearing, irreverent, mom to two tiny pirates. (Everyone's all, "oh, do you like pirates?" to all the skulls and cross bones around here. I tell them mom does. *evil smile*) I think motherhood is a blessing. It is the best and worst, the most rewarding, least thankful, most trying, most joyful experience I have ever had. I love my children. I would lay down my life for theirs, more importantly, I would take your life for theirs for no better reason then they are my children. But, I am irreverent about motherhood. There's a lot of swearing, a lot of griping, a lot of complaining, a lot of threatening to run away to Mexico, and a lot of unappreciativeness. There's a whole blogosphere of irreverent mom blogs. This is mine. This is not all "sunshine and rainbows," this is not my, "the joy of motherhood," this is my, "sometimes my kids suck, and sometimes I'm a crappy mom," blog. Reader beware.
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