Blogs are supposed to be for ranting, right? I have one this morning, inspired by a quote in a week-old article in the New York Times about the rise of "mom lit." Mom lit is, apparently, light and frothy narrative about the perils of choosing an Italian stroller in Manhattan. Or something. Anyway, it picks up where "chick lit" left off. Jill Kargman, author of the forthcoming "Momzilla," describes her readers as savvy and hip and, one has to infer, somehow better.
"They don't feel like the crusty, over-the-hill J.C. Penney moms with the tapestry vest," says she.
My first thought: Bitch.
My second thought: Why are publishers giving so much shelf space to these bitches?
Every mother who does the daily grind with her kids knows that we are all about one vomit-stain away from giving up on the artifice of looking good. If that means shopping at J.C. Penney for sturdy wash-and-wear items that are cheap enough to discard without guilt after the breast milk leaks through the breast pad for the 400th time, then so be it. Shit, who do we have to impress during the day?
Not Jill Kargman. I hate to think what she might say about my second-day hair and (gasp!) last year's shoes.
Did that sound judgmental?