"It's Your Fault!" Friday

The first unofficial thing new mothers learn is that, no matter what happens, It's Your Fault. Can't nurse? Your fault. Colicky kid? Your fault. Dingo stole your baby? Your fault.

In what I would love to be a one-off, but will surely become a reoccurring feature, I present this week's societal F You's to moms everywhere. To get yourself in the proper frame of mind, go read these unsolicited comments to parents and know that every mother I know has heard a variation of at least two of them.

1) Hey, remember how your doctor told you to eat lots of fruit when you were pregnant? Well, I hope you had access to 100% organic, free-range, picked-by-virgins fruit, because otherwise your kid is doomed to be a moron. What's that? You're a migrant worker? Sorry, you're fucked.

2) Okay, you've cut out pesticide-treated fruit. You're all set, right? Nope! Put down those Cheetos or your kid will be fat and it will be All Your Fault. The headline of that article is actually "Your Mom Is Why You're Fat."

Okay, I realize these are scientific studies controlling for a very specific set of circumstances and testing one small part of the zillions of things that affect intelligence and weight, but the way they're reported and the way they filter into the culture is as DON'T EAT THAT APPLE OR YOUR KID WILL BE DUMB and DON'T EAT THOSE MCNUGGETS OR YOUR KID WON'T BE ABLE TO SEE HIS FEET.

Finally, 3) kind of breaks my heart. I adore Neko Case and, in fact, sang her songs to my infant to stay awake during late night feedings when I was so tired I was afraid I was going to pass out, keel over, and smother Baby Razor with my boobs. Then she went and tweeted this:

Parents of SF; your child walks AND talks, get it out of the fucking stroller!!! Ick!

It was a joke. I get that it was a joke. But as the parent of a walking, talking child who enjoys nothing more than darting out into busy intersections, it didn't make me laugh so much as it made me grind my teeth. And when I let her roam free? People ask me why she isn't in a stroller. So, Neko, I love you beyond all reason, but kindly STFU.