Normal. To me? Quite boring. And no, we’re not bringing up the unfortunate years that I thought shaving my head was cool. (Which btw way, totally was if the look I was going for was middle of nowhere lesbian bartender.) Normal. As in normal every day life. Societies roles for the every day person.
I guess it’s not acceptable to run around in ninja mode in your front yard unless you’re actually… get this…. an FBI agent.
Heh. So only FBI agents get to pretend. The rest of us normal folk aren’t allowed to. It’s acceptable in society for me to cram my car seat in a mini-van, wear pants past my navel, and crocs. Which btw, if ANYONE ever spots me in a pair of crocs, put me in your cross-hairs… I’m precariously close… my dad bought these shoes… yeah. Not crocs. But close. And ohsocomfortable.
So a lot of people are wary of a mom who goes dancing weekly. Who disassembles barbies for her daughter so we can make a leg castle. (Okay, that one is kind of weird.) A mom who likes pink eyeshadow and mohawks (not on me, trust me, it looked funny). A mom who bartends or serves. Yadda Yadda Yadda.
THEN. On the flip side. I’ll meet someone out dancing. They’ll take one look at my tattoos, piercings, clothes and drink in hand and then want to hang out. Then they get all weird when I say I don’t go out when I have my daughter. And no. We can’t drink at my house… you’ll wake her up. Just because I’m abnormal looking or acting even, doesn’t mean I can’t fit the mold of almighty mom.
I guess I’ve been realizing more and more these past couple of months, that no matter what I do, I surprise someone. Or even shock. I just don’t fit in anyone one mold. Whether it be white trash mom, party mom, suzy homemaker (sarah homemaker), soccer mom, sociopath-who-eats-faces-with-their-wheaties (I guess you have to actually KILL someone and *gag* EAT THEM to be able to say that) whatever.
I know how I run my household is perfect. My parenting methods work for us. My social life is safe and works for me. I guess though, I’d just like to *not* see the eyebrows go up. Unless we’re getting a wax before I get my nails done… with little pink bows and crossbones.